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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116293">Catholic Girls Start Much Too Late</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairychangeling/pseuds/fairychangeling'>fairychangeling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (1990), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Sex, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Blond Eddie Kaspbrak, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak is Bad at Feelings, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous Richie Tozier, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Homophobic Sonia Kaspbrak, M/M, Married Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Misunderstandings, Mutual Masturbation, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Richie Tozier, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn Watching, Repressed Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier has a Moustache, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Top Richie Tozier, Virgin Eddie Kaspbrak, Younger Eddie Kaspbrak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:40:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairychangeling/pseuds/fairychangeling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-one year old Eddie Kaspbrak knows something is wrong with him.</p><p>He's knows he isn't like other men. He's not big and he's not strong. He can't grow a beard and he's never kissed a girl. </p><p>When he catches sight of Richie Tozier on TV, he knows Richie is everything he wants to be. </p><p>Confusing attraction for admiration, Eddie boards a plane to LA intent on finding Richie. </p><p>His plan? To learn how to be a man just like Richie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>250</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. They built you a temple and locked you away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Major love to my husband who has read every chapter, held my hand and given me support through writing this.  </p><p>This story takes place in a timeline where the Losers Club doesn't exist due to them all having been born at different times, but thankfully Pennywise doesn't exist either so it's all fine. Eddie has grown up in his mother's clutches with only Mike as a life-line outside of her, so he's extra repressed and oblivious to the fact that he's gay.</p><p>Richie and Eddie are heavily influenced by their characterisations in the books and the TV miniseries and are supposed to look like their adult miniseries selves. Although not explicitly mentioned in this chapter, Richie is 40. </p><p>The title comes from Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie knew there was something wrong with him.</p>
<p>A part of him was missing. </p>
<p>That was the only way he could explain it. </p>
<p>He had known from a young age, when he’d looked at the large hands of the pharmacist, Mr. Keene, filling his prescription bottle, at his knuckles dusted with hair, and then looked down at his own small pink fingers and felt inadequate. </p>
<p>Eddie, now twenty-one, still felt as small and pink and inadequate as he’d felt that day. </p>
<p>Other men matured, but Eddie didn’t. He was a little smaller than average, a little skinnier. </p>
<p>Little in a lot of ways. </p>
<p>His world was little. Just him and his mom. </p>
<p>Eddie did everything for the two of them - cooking, cleaning, washing. He fixed the car, he replaced the busted light bulbs and oiled the hinges of the creaking front door. He ran errands, picking up their prescriptions. The old pharmacist had retired years ago, but Eddie still felt the rush when he walked through the door, thinking he might be there, that he might hand Eddie his prescription and Eddie’s small fingers would brush against his large ones. </p>
<p>No one ever touched Eddie. Not even his mom anymore.</p>
<p>He was a good son, a dutiful son. He kissed her cheek and told her he loved her. </p>
<p>He made her cocoa and brought her the pills she needed that day, and he helped her up the stairs and into bed at night, but she didn’t hug him any more. She didn’t kiss him, or call him Eddie-Bear. </p>
<p>She knew that there was something wrong with him. </p>
<p>Eddie was certain that was why she’d stopped. </p>
<p>For so long she’d hated the idea of him going out, of him growing up, but now she looked at him with suspicion. </p>
<p><em> He wasn’t a real man </em> she’d slurred one day when he was tucking her in. </p>
<p>Her son and he wasn’t a real man. </p>
<p>Eddie had fled downstairs, his heart hammering in his chest, horrified because he knew it was true. </p>
<p>He wasn’t big, he wasn’t strong. He couldn’t grow any facial hair; he’d tried and ended up with a patchy mess of blond tufts. He couldn’t talk to girls. </p>
<p>He’d never even been kissed. </p>
<p>Real man had loud, deep laughs that shook their shoulders. Real men drank whisky and danced with pretty girls. Real men were confident and happy, secure in themselves and their masculinity. They didn’t have people calling them fag and laughing behind their hands. They didn’t look at themselves and see everything that was so clearly lacking in their small ugly bodies. </p>
<p>They were everything Eddie wasn’t. Everything he so desperately wanted to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was flipping through channels late one night, his mom snoring away in bed, when he made the decision to change his life. </p>
<p>His mom didn’t like Eddie watching late shows. She didn’t like him staying up. It was the smallest act of rebellion to stay downstairs and watch something she’d never have approved of, laughing into his hand to muffle the sound. </p>
<p>Then Eddie found <em> him </em> and the whole world seemed to stop. </p>
<p>If Eddie had closed his eyes and imagined what his ideal of masculinity would look like in human form it would have been the man on the screen in front of him. </p>
<p>
  <em> Live - A Night with Richie Tozier.  </em>
</p>
<p>That was what the banner at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen said. </p>
<p>Eddie had licked his lips, shuffling closer to the edge of his seat. </p>
<p>Richie Tozier was perfect. </p>
<p>Richie had a moustache. A full, bushy moustache that covered the whole of his top lip. </p>
<p>He had the cool confidence Eddie had always lacked, the easy charm he so desperately wanted. He winked at the camera, laughed at his own jokes, smiled so warmly that Eddie’s breath caught in his throat.</p>
<p>His shirt was open, the first three buttons popped, enough to show off a hint of what was below.</p>
<p>He was hairy, dark coarse hair littering his chest and Eddie wanted to press his face against his collar, rub his cheek there and feel that coarse hair tickling him, breath in the masculine scent of him.  </p>
<p>Eddie’s own chest was covered in sparse blond hairs, so fair they were almost invisible. The contrast between their bodies made Eddie ache inside, wishing he could have what the man on his Television screen had. Richie was tall, broad shouldered and he owned the space he occupied. He had the crowd eating out of his hand. </p>
<p>Richie was magnetic and Eddie couldn’t look away. </p>
<p>Eddie had known, right then and there, that he could be a real man if he met Richie Tozier.</p>
<p>No, it had been more than that.</p>
<p>He’d known the <em> only </em> way he could be a real man was if he met Richie Tozier.</p>
<p>No-one else would be enough. </p>
<p>It had to be him and suddenly Eddie couldn’t stand it any longer. He couldn’t stay in his little house, in his little town, in his little state, living his little life any longer. </p>
<p>He needed to get out.</p>
<p>He needed to get to Richie. </p>
<p>He <em> needed </em> Richie.</p>
<p>With a trembling hand, he’d reached for the phone, pulling it towards him, and dialled the number for directory enquiries. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie Tozier had the nicest manager in LA.</p>
<p>Not only did the guy book him the best gigs, but he also left Richie cute little gifts like the one in his dressing room. </p>
<p>Fresh-off the stage, sweating and filled with the kind of buzz he always got after performing, Richie opened his dressing room door to find the most adorable little guy sitting there shyly waiting for him. </p>
<p>He whistled low, letting his eyes rake up and down the length of the other man, pleased with what he saw. </p>
<p>“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”</p>
<p>The kid blushed, actually blushed, his cheeks going pink and Richie knew he’d have to send his manager some kind of fruit basket for finding this guy. </p>
<p>How many whores were there left in LA who blushed when you flirted with them?</p>
<p>“I’m Eddie,” the kid said breathlessly. </p>
<p>“You’re cute, that’s what you are,” Richie said, shutting the dressing room door behind him. </p>
<p>Eddie huffed, puffing up as if he was annoyed by the suggestion, although Richie couldn’t see why. His phone must have been ringing off the hook, he must have had bookings for days or even months ahead. </p>
<p>He looked like some sort of cherub, sitting there with his fluffy golden hair and his neatly pressed trousers. Far too pure and virginal for all the filthy things Richie was going to do with him. </p>
<p>Richie felt his cock twitch in interest. </p>
<p>If Richie was ten years younger, he’d have the kid right here in the dressing room, bent over the table with the lights from the mirror illuminating his blond curls like a halo. But Richie’s back was aching and his large King Size bed was calling him. He could snuggle up with this little angel in the comfort of home. </p>
<p>“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, jerking his head. “My car is out back.” </p>
<p>Eddie looked surprised, but he stood up dutifully, grabbing a little suitcase that Richie hadn’t noticed was tucked in by his feet. </p>
<p>Richie raised an eyebrow.</p>
<p>“I came straight here from the airport,” Eddie said, as if that explained anything.</p>
<p>Had Richie really slept with everyone in LA? Where they having to fly twinks in for him especially? </p>
<p>Or maybe his manager was just extra pleased with him. </p>
<p>“Where’d you come from?” he asked, holding the door open for Eddie, letting his eyes linger on the kid’s backside. </p>
<p>“Maine,” Eddie said.</p>
<p>“You came all that way for little old me?” Richie asked, astounded. How much was his agent paying this guy? “Don’t they have men in Maine?”</p>
<p>Eddie looked back at him, his eyes twinkling prettily.</p>
<p>“Not like you,” he said.</p>
<p>Richie could have kissed him right there, but they were in the crowded backstage of a theatre so he settled for grasping Eddie’s arm, pulling him through the corridors to the back door. </p>
<p>His cherry red Chevrolet Corvette convertible gleamed where it was parked, illuminated under the light of a street lamp. </p>
<p>“Nice, right?” </p>
<p>Eddie nodded, eyes wide.</p>
<p>Richie didn’t know why he was trying to impress the kid. He was a sure thing. </p>
<p>He dug in his pockets, both front and back, and the pockets of his blazer before coming up with his keys.</p>
<p>Richie, always the gentleman, held the passenger door open for Eddie. The kid slid in, holding his beaten up case close to his chest. He looked excited.</p>
<p>Maybe he was a fan?</p>
<p><em> That would be nice </em> , Richie thought as he rounded the car, <em> fucking a fan </em>. </p>
<p>He dropped into his own seat, flashing Eddie a grin, before starting the car up and listening to her purr.</p>
<p>They sped down the streets, late enough that the traffic wasn’t an issue. </p>
<p>Richie gripped the steering wheel tightly in his hands, glancing every so often at Eddie from the corner of his eye. He wanted to touch him, badly. From the way Eddie was clinging on to his suitcase, finding a way to occupy his hands, the feeling was mutual. </p>
<p>Richie would have given anything to be able to pull off to the side of the road and shove his hand down the kid’s pants, but even a twinky as cute as Eddie wasn’t worth that headline. </p>
<p>He could come back from a lot of things - drunken mistakes, turning up high to record a drugs PSA, failed relationships with leading ladies and messy divorces - but he couldn’t come back from being caught with another man. </p>
<p>It was an open secret - Richie Tozier swung both ways - but just because it was ok in LA, ok in the circles he moved in, didn’t mean it would fly in the rural states. </p>
<p>Richie slowed down.</p>
<p>“How old are you?” he asked, looking nervously in the rear view mirror, expecting to see flashing lights behind them. </p>
<p>Richie Tozier pulled over with a rent boy in the car was not the sort of publicity he was courting, much less pulled over with an underage one.</p>
<p>“Twenty-one,” Eddie said.</p>
<p>“Oh, good,” Richie muttered and drove the speed limit the rest of the way. </p>
<p>His house reflected the life he’d made for himself. </p>
<p>It was huge, far too big for a single man to live in alone, but Richie couldn’t buy somewhere smaller and have people thinking he was doing badly for himself. He’d hired someone to decorate the whole thing for him because Richie hadn’t really had anything to his own name. He’d been living out of suitcases, traveling for gigs and different jobs - voice acting here, a movie role there. </p>
<p>The first thing he’d done to make the house his own was put up framed posters of his tours and his movies. They hung on the wall by the staircase, a procession of Richie’s career to the point where he was the star, the latest of his movies adorning the prime place at the top step. </p>
<p>It was the only thing he’d done to make it his own really. </p>
<p>He opened the front door, gratified by the sharp intake of breath from Eddie, who’s eyes grew even wider than when he’d seen the car.</p>
<p>“Oh, wow,” he said, stepping into the foyer </p>
<p>“I know, right? Wait until you see the bedroom.” </p>
<p>Eddie looked back at him, blushing and Richie wondered if it was rude to ask how much his manager was paying for him.</p>
<p>Eddie had this whole virginal boy in the big city thing down so perfectly. </p>
<p>He grabbed hold of Eddie, pulling him close, frowning when he realised Eddie was still clutching that damn suitcase. He couldn’t get as close as he wanted, but at least he could finally kiss Eddie.</p>
<p>The kid’s lips were as soft as they looked. </p>
<p>Eddie shivered in his arms, turning his head away to break the kiss far too soon, giggling softly.</p>
<p>“Your moustache tickles,” he said.</p>
<p>Richie wanted to strip him naked, eat him out and ask if his moustache tickled Eddie then too. </p>
<p>He was intoxicating. </p>
<p>Instead, he let Eddie slip from his arms, allowing him to put his suitcase neatly down beside the door. </p>
<p>Ready for when he left. </p>
<p>“Can I get you a drink?” Richie asked quickly, not wanting to focus on anything but the here and now. “Not to brag, but I make a mean <em> Woo Woo </em>.”</p>
<p>“I’ve never had one of those,” Eddie said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “What’s in it?” </p>
<p>“Vodka, Peach Schnapps, cranberry juice,” Richie said, heading further into the house, towards the built in bar in the living room. </p>
<p>He’d had it installed for entertaining. </p>
<p>He’d liked the idea of being behind the bar, pouring shots and making up cocktails for his fabulous friends while they laughed at his jokes.</p>
<p>The only real entertaining he did was like this though, quietly with his hook ups. </p>
<p>“I can have that,” Eddie said, standing there awkwardly as Richie dipped behind the bar, grabbing the things he needed. </p>
<p>“Sit down, you don’t have to stand on ceremony,” he said, waving Eddie towards the stupidly expensive couch.</p>
<p>Eddie settled down primly on the edge and Richie dashed through the cocktail preparations, pouring the ingredients haphazardly into a cocktail shaker.  </p>
<p>The anticipation was delicious. </p>
<p>Riche was going to take Eddie apart, bit by bit, tug off that sweater vest Eddie was wearing, get him naked and spread out on the bed upstairs, make him beg for Richie to fuck him. </p>
<p>He lifted the cocktail shaker, getting ready to shake it all together vigorously, and then he caught a whiff of himself. He was pungent, enough to knock out a delicate flower like the boy before him. </p>
<p>Richie gave the shaker a couple of half-hearted rattles. </p>
<p>“Do you mind if I grab a shower first?” he asked, reaching for two tumblers, pouring one for himself and one for Eddie. “I’m kind of sweaty after getting off stage.” </p>
<p>He passed the drink to Eddie, their fingers brushing.</p>
<p>It was like an electric current passed between them. </p>
<p>Richie decided he could stand a little more anticipation. </p>
<p>“Oh, of course,” Eddie said. </p>
<p>“Unless you want to join me,” Richie quipped, winking at him. </p>
<p>Eddie blushed again, raising the glass to his lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie was as fast as he could be. </p>
<p>He didn’t want to leave Eddie downstairs alone, nursing his cocktail and feeling neglected. </p>
<p>The shower was just a formality to wash away the stale sweat. He could have another, better, shower in the morning. </p>
<p>Under the spray, he rinsed himself clean, scrubbing the performance off him before he shut the water off and got out. </p>
<p>Richie towelled himself dry and then hastily dragged on his monogrammed robe, tying it shut as he hurried down the stairs. </p>
<p>“Eddie? Eddie, baby?” he called. “Did you drink my cocktail too?”</p>
<p>It was silent down below.</p>
<p>Richie found out why when he entered the living room.</p>
<p>Eddie was asleep on the sofa, curled up tight with his legs tucked into his chest. He’d taken his shoes off at some point, nestling them under the sofa, and he’d set his half-finished drink on the floor. </p>
<p>Richie’s heart thudded in his chest. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” he muttered, crouching down at Eddie’s side. </p>
<p>He looked so peaceful.</p>
<p>Richie stroked a hand through his soft curls. “What happened, honey? Did they tire you out in Maine?” </p>
<p>Eddie didn’t stir. His breathing was so even, like he was having the best dreams of his life. </p>
<p>Richie didn’t have the heart to wake him. </p>
<p>“Ok, kid, we’ll take a rain check on tonight,” he muttered to himself, getting to his feet. </p>
<p>He went back upstairs to fetch a spare blanket. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Send up a signal and I'll throw you the line</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter contains the first part of what I like to think of as 'a love letter to Mike Hanlon in seven parts'.</p>
<p>Content warning for this chapter: Mentions of Sonia's racism towards Mike.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> ‘Hey - Steve! You’re the best manager on the whole of the west coast, you know that? Do you think you could send me details of whatever escort service you booked the kid through? I don’t know how you found him or what you paid him, but I’m telling you, it was worth it. I’m just crazy about his act. That whole good Catholic boy thing? Love it! It makes me wanna rub my hands all over him, get him all dirty. Like I said, Steve, you’re the best! Love you, sweetheart!’  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<ul>
<li>Incriminating message left on the answerphone of Richie Tozier’s manager at 12.32pm. The tape containing this message was later destroyed. </li>
</ul>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>Richie awoke to the smell of someone cooking breakfast. </p>
<p>For a moment, he was back in his childhood bedroom, smelling fresh cooking bacon and knowing that his mum was about to call him down to eat. He felt an overwhelming rush of fondness, driven by the nostalgia of having someone take care of him. </p>
<p>Then he blinked, remembering that he lived alone in LA and that his mum was dead. </p>
<p>Someone else was in his house. </p>
<p>Richie tugged on some pants, grabbed the nearest thing he could find to use as a weapon - his golden globe trophy which felt good and heavy in his hands - and crept downstairs as quietly as he could. </p>
<p>Would a burglar break into his house and then make breakfast? </p>
<p><em> It didn’t need to be a burglar </em> , Richie thought, <em> It could be a deranged fan. </em> </p>
<p>Richie had read the last William Denbrough novel. </p>
<p>He could have a stalker waiting for him in his kitchen, planning to play house and force Richie to perform stand-up every night just for them.</p>
<p>By the time he pushed the kitchen door open, he was thoroughly into the fantasy, remembering the horrible ending where William Denbrough’s protagonist had been fed to pigs and not willing to suffer the same fate. </p>
<p>“You’re up! That’s good!”</p>
<p>Richie blinked.</p>
<p>He set his golden globe down on the kitchen table, feeling very stupid. </p>
<p>It was Eddie in his kitchen. </p>
<p>The night before came rushing back to him and Richie shook his head, wondering how he could have ever forgotten about Eddie. </p>
<p>“You make breakfast too?” he asked, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. “You really are full service, huh?”</p>
<p>Eddie smiled. He plated up a portion of bacon and eggs, bringing it to the table and set it in front of Richie before he fetched toast and butter and a pot of fresh coffee.</p>
<p>“I cooked for my mom at home,” he said. “I like it.” </p>
<p>Richie dug in.</p>
<p>He couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked breakfast for him. </p>
<p>“I like it too,” he said, his mouth half full of food.</p>
<p>Eddie wrinkled his nose.</p>
<p>“You should close your mouth when you chew,” he said. “Talking while you eat is a choking hazard and it’s just rude.” </p>
<p>Richie considered shoving the food aside and having Eddie across the kitchen table instead. </p>
<p>He wanted to eat him up with a spoon. </p>
<p>Eddie set a small plate out for himself and sat across from Richie.</p>
<p>It was all very domestic, both of them eating in companionable silence in Riche’s underused kitchen.  Eddie was a good cook.</p>
<p>Richie finished his toast and pushed his plate aside.</p>
<p>“When do you have to leave?” he asked.</p>
<p>Hopefully they’d have time for something more than just breakfast. </p>
<p>Eddie pushed his food around, not looking up. </p>
<p>“I didn’t book a ticket back,” he said.</p>
<p>“You didn’t? Moving out to LA a permanent thing?” </p>
<p>Richie thought that was a wonderful idea. Eddie would be booked solid and maybe Richie could think about becoming a regular client.</p>
<p>He was hopeless. </p>
<p>They hadn’t even fucked and yet here he was, imagining himself as one of Eddie’s regulars. </p>
<p>But looking at Eddie, Richie couldn’t imagine they’d have anything less than a great time. </p>
<p>Eddie was still doing his shy thing, not looking up at Richie’s questions.</p>
<p>Richie wanted to pinch his cheeks, he was so cute. </p>
<p>“I’d like it to be,” Eddie said quietly. “I mean, if you’d let me stay.”</p>
<p>That brought things to a screeching halt. </p>
<p>“You mean stay here? With me?” Richie asked, his voice growing faintly hysterical. </p>
<p>Eddie nodded. </p>
<p>He finally looked up at Richie, his big eyes imploring.</p>
<p>“I know it’s a lot to ask and we only just met, but I just know it has to be you! You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met! You’re everything I wish I was and if you can’t make me into a man, then no one can!”</p>
<p>Richie felt he’d gotten lost somewhere in the conversation. </p>
<p>“Wait!” he said, holding a hand up to stop Eddie from saying anything more. “Are you trying to tell me you’re a virgin?”</p>
<p>Eddie nodded.</p>
<p>Richie lowered his hand, unable to find words for once in his life.</p>
<p>How could Eddie be a virgin? How had his manager booked him a virgin prostitute? Or was this some more of Eddie’s act? Richie was sure he’d see the funny side of this one day, maybe turn it into a really off-colour joke he could only tell at the right sort of parties, but now he didn’t know what to say.</p>
<p>Eddie took that as permission to fill the silence.</p>
<p>“I saw you on TV. You looked - you looked perfect! The way you talked and the way you moved! I know I’m not anyone and you don’t have to help me, but when you brought me home last night, I thought you understood. I need you, Richie. If you can’t help me, then I don’t know what I’ll do! I know there’s something wrong with me. I know I’m not the man I should be. I’m delicate and weak and I don’t want to be! I want to be like you!” </p>
<p>Richie slumped down in his seat, covering his face with his hands.</p>
<p>“Are you going to feed me to pigs?” he muttered.</p>
<p>Eddie didn’t seem to hear him. </p>
<p>“I know I’m asking a lot, but I’ll make it worth your while. I can cook and I can clean. I can take notes, I did a course in shorthand at the library, and I can fix things. I’m good with my hands.”</p>
<p>Richie groaned. </p>
<p>“Please,” Eddie said. “Please, I can’t go back. I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if I go back.”</p>
<p>Richie looked at him.</p>
<p>Eddie looked so small, so fragile sat across from him.  He looked honestly terrified at the prospect of going home, like sending him back to Maine would be a death sentence. </p>
<p>“Let me see if I understand this,” Richie said, hating himself for how weak he was for pretty boys. “You saw me on TV and you got a flight here.”</p>
<p>Eddie nodded.</p>
<p>“How’d you get in the dressing room?” </p>
<p>“I tried to buy a ticket, but they were sold out, so I went around the back and there was someone there, I think he was guarding the stage door. I told him I wanted to see you and he said I was someone you’d like to see and let me in.”</p>
<p>Richie groaned again.</p>
<p>“Are you ok?” Eddie asked nervously. “I’m very good at first aid.” </p>
<p>“I’m fine,” Richie said. “Ok, you came here because you think there’s something wrong with you and you think I can fix you?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Eddie said, so earnest and innocent. “I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you.”</p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>Richie could remember being a gangly youth, with his glasses too big for his face, his teeth too big for his mouth. He could remember stumbling over his lines, trying to spit out a joke that would see everyone laughing, only to fail to have the confidence to carry it off. </p>
<p>That was part of growing up.</p>
<p>He’d grown into his teeth. He’d got contact lenses. He’d practised and practised until he was flawless, until he could make everyone dissolve into fits of laughter whenever he opened his mouth. </p>
<p>But he’d known, even as he got his first gigs and started to get noticed, that there was something odd about him. </p>
<p>He hadn’t had the words for what he felt, for who he was inside. </p>
<p>Looking at Eddie, Richie wondered if that was his problem too. </p>
<p>Eddie didn’t know how to be who he was because he’d never realised that was an option. </p>
<p>If he went back to Maine then he’d never know.</p>
<p>He’d just shrink up into himself, hating everything he was, never accepting the person he could be. </p>
<p>Richie wasn’t about to let that happen.</p>
<p>Maybe he was thinking with his dick, but he wasn’t letting Eddie walk out of his life.</p>
<p>“Ok, you can stay,” he said.</p>
<p>Eddie practically launched himself across the table to hug him.</p>
<p>Richie held him, shoving his face into Eddie’s curls, breathing in the scent of him and hating himself. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Eddie murmured. “Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me.”</p>
<p>He sounded like he was about to cry. </p>
<p>“Hey! Hey, don’t thank me,” Richie said, “You’ve already said you’ll clean for me! You’re getting a crummy deal and I’m getting a maid!” </p>
<p>Eddie pulled away, his eyes suspiciously wet, but he was smiling.</p>
<p>“Now, you said you cooked for your mom,” Richie said. “She still around?”</p>
<p>Eddie nodded. </p>
<p>“Yeah, back home.” He seemed to sense an unspoken criticism in Richie’s gaze because he launched into a longer explanation. “I didn’t just leave her! I called the pharmacy and they’re going to take her prescriptions to her, and Mike Hanlon, our librarian, he said he’d check on her but I don’t think she’ll answer the door to him, but I’ve made arrangements with the diner in town to drop off meals to her every day.”</p>
<p>He twisted his fingers together, looking nervous. </p>
<p>“Do you think that’s enough?” he asked. “I mean, I’ll call her when I’m settled properly, let her know how things are going, but I’ve never left her before.” </p>
<p>Richie stared at him. </p>
<p>“Why won’t she open the door to the librarian?” </p>
<p>Eddie winced.</p>
<p>“He’s black,” he said in a very small voice. “She doesn’t like black people. She doesn’t like that Mike and I are friends.” </p>
<p>Already a picture had begun to form in Richie’s mind of what Eddie’s mother was like and this revelation cemented it. </p>
<p>If Eddie went back to her after running away, she’d swallow him whole to keep him from doing it again.</p>
<p>Richie reached out, placing a hand over Eddie’s and squeezed.</p>
<p>“I think you’ve been amazing,” he said. “I think she’s lucky to have you.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s smile was blinding.</p>
<p>“So, what sort of things do you want me to help you with?” Richie asked, realising he still had no idea what Eddie actually wanted from him. </p>
<p>It wasn’t as if Richie had a formula for being how he was.</p>
<p>“I thought maybe you could teach me how to talk to girls,” Eddie said.</p>
<p>Richie realised belatedly that he was still holding onto Eddie’s hand. </p>
<p>He was going to have the worst case of blue balls when this was all over. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Richie took Eddie upstairs after breakfast.</p>
<p>They bypassed his own room, stopping at the smaller guest room next door.</p>
<p>The bed was unmade. </p>
<p>Richie didn’t have guests that often, not guests that stayed in a separate room. </p>
<p>He had a five bedroom house. </p>
<p>“This is yours,” he said.</p>
<p>Eddie placed his suitcase on the bed and nodded.</p>
<p>“It’s very nice,” he said.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Richie agreed. “Linens and stuff are in the hall closet. There are some towels in the wardrobe and the guest bathroom is the second door on the left. I’ll let you get freshened up.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Eddie said sincerely.</p>
<p>“We’ll go out tonight, yeah? I’m supposed to have dinner with some friends of mine, Bev and Ben. I’ll call them and let them know you’re coming,” Richie said. </p>
<p>He fled downstairs to let Eddie get himself settled.</p>
<p>He dialled Beverly’s work number, chewing at his lower lip while he waited for her to pick up.</p>
<p>“<em>Beverly Marsh Designs</em>. You’re speaking to Beverly Marsh.”</p>
<p>“Hey, Bev, just Richie,” he said.</p>
<p>“Richie! How are you?” Beverly actually sounded pleased that he’d called.</p>
<p>“Good, good.”</p>
<p>“You’re not calling to cancel are you?” she asked sharply. “You promised you’d come! We haven’t seen you in ages.”</p>
<p>“I’m not cancelling,” Richie hurried to reassure her. “I’m actually calling to let you know I’ll be bringing someone.”</p>
<p>“A plus one? That’s so exciting. I can’t remember the last time you brought a date!”</p>
<p>“It’s not a date, Bev,” Richie sighed. “He’s a house guest. I’ll explain tonight.”</p>
<p>“Fine, fine, be all mysterious,” Beverly said. “I’m just glad you’re still coming.”</p>
<p>“I couldn’t stand my best girl up, could I?” </p>
<p>Beverly laughed and Richie felt a bit better. </p>
<p>They said their goodbyes and Richie placed the phone back in it’s cradle. </p>
<p>He heard the light thump of footsteps on the stairs behind him and glanced over his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Can I use the phone?” Eddie asked. </p>
<p>He was holding an address book in his hands.</p>
<p>“Knock yourself out,” Richie said.</p>
<p>He left him there, giving him his privacy, and fled back upstairs to throw himself into the shower in the master bedroom, refusing to think about what he was doing or what Bev would say when he saw her that evening. </p>
<p><br/><br/>**</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eddie opened the address book, turning the neat little pages until he reached ‘H’ where there was one name - Mike Hanlon. He had Mike’s phone number, the library phone number and the address of Mike’s family farm. </p>
<p>Apart from his own home address and telephone number, and the telephone number for Keene’s pharmacy, Mike’s details were all his address book held. </p>
<p>He dialled Mike’s home number first, guessing that Mike would probably be there early in the morning, but when it rang and rang with no answer, he remembered that there was a time difference and called the library number instead.</p>
<p>“Derry Public Library. You’ve reached Mike Hanlon,” came the voice on the other side of the phone. Polite, but distant. “How can I help you?” </p>
<p>“Mike, it’s Eddie.”</p>
<p>“Eddie?” Mike sounded instantly alert. “Are you ok? Are you in LA? How was the flight?”</p>
<p>“Good, good,” Eddie assured him. “I’m in LA. Everything’s great, Mike! Really great!”</p>
<p>“Good,” Mike said, the relief in his voice palpable. </p>
<p>It warmed Eddie’s heart to hear it. </p>
<p>“I was just calling to check up on mommy,” he said, his voice catching a little over the word <em> mommy </em>. </p>
<p>It wasn’t as if Mike would give him a hard time, but Eddie found himself glancing over his shoulder, hoping Richie hadn’t heard. </p>
<p>Men in their twenties shouldn’t be calling their mother <em> mommy </em>, no matter what their mother insisted. </p>
<p>“Well, she tried to file a missing person’s report with the Derry police department,” Mike said, laughing softly. “They told her you’re a twenty-one year old man and can do whatever the fuck you want, but she might get you on the side of a milk carton soon if you don’t call her and let her know you’re ok.”</p>
<p>“I will,” Eddie said softly. “I just…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” Mike said, cutting him off, saving Eddie from having to explain. </p>
<p>Mike understood. He knew Eddie needed this. </p>
<p>Mike had always been the sweetest, kindest boy in all of Derry and he’d grown up to be the sweetest, wisest man. </p>
<p>He’d encouraged Eddie to take courses in the library. Eddie had always felt so out of place, so guilty that he was there instead of at home, looking after his mother, but Mike had just given him one of his soft looks and told Eddie he might need conversational French one day. </p>
<p>Mike had big plans, big dreams. He would use his conversational French. He’d get out of Derry one day, when he had enough money saved, and he’d see the world. </p>
<p>Talking to him had always made Eddie remember how very small Derry was, how much of the world was left to explore once he made it out of town. </p>
<p>Mike had made Eddie promise that he would get out too. </p>
<p>“It feels strange that I’m here and you’re still in Derry,” he said, twirling the phone cord around his fingers.</p>
<p>“I mean, once you start working, maybe you can send me a plane ticket and I can come visit you?” Mike suggested, all warmth and no pressure. </p>
<p>“I’ve got a job,” Eddie said.</p>
<p>There was a beat of silence.</p>
<p>“You’ve only been out there a day,” Mike said. He seemed hesitant suddenly, like he’d been when Eddie first called, as if he was expecting something awful. </p>
<p>“I’m an assistant, like a personal assistant,” Eddie said. “I’ve got all the qualifications - I can cook, I can clean, I can drive and you made me learn shorthand!” </p>
<p>“I told you taking care of your mom gave you a lot of skills,” Mike said proudly “So, you found some old biddie who needs you to run errands and drive her to brunch?”</p>
<p>“No,” Eddie said, winding the phone cord even tighter around his fingers. “Richie Tozier.”</p>
<p>There was another long beat of silence. Eddie found himself desperate to fill it. </p>
<p>“I’m Richie Tozier’s assistant. Actually, he said I was his maid. He’s so nice, Mike. He gave me a room and we’re going out to dinner with his friends later,” he was babbling. “He understands, Mike. He understands about me and what’s wrong with me and he wants to help.”</p>
<p>“Eddie,” Mike’s voice grew stern. “There is nothing wrong with you.”</p>
<p>Eddie huffed, annoyed.</p>
<p>“You would say that! You had your growth spurt and your shoulders filled in! And you lost all that baby fat around your face.”</p>
<p>“Eddie, I think you’re trying to compliment me, but you’re making me feel kind of bad,” Mike said gently. </p>
<p>He was always gentle with Eddie when he made a mistake. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” Eddie said. </p>
<p>“It’s ok,” Mike said, and it was. Mike really was the kindest person he knew. “So, Richie Tozier? You see a guy on TV one night and now you’re living with him? Did you kiss a frog and get three wishes or something? I don’t know anyone else who has that kind of luck.” </p>
<p>Even though Mike couldn’t see him, Eddie pulled a face at the thought of kissing a frog.</p>
<p>“I would never kiss a frog,” he declared. “That’s unsanitary.” </p>
<p>Another of the long pauses, so long now that Eddie began to wonder if Mike had been distracted by something in the library.</p>
<p>“What about Richie Tozier?” Mike asked suddenly, breaking the silence. </p>
<p>“What about him?” Eddie asked, puzzled, his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to figure out what Mike was saying.</p>
<p>“Would you kiss him?”</p>
<p>Eddie remembered how Richie’s mouth had felt against his own, firm and warm, rooting Eddie to the spot. His moustache had tickled at Eddie’s top lip and it had all been over so quickly that Eddie hadn’t had time to respond. </p>
<p>At the library, at one of the job skill courses Mike has signed him up for, they’d talked about a firm handshake, about how it left a good impression.</p>
<p>Richie, with his kiss, had left a good impression. </p>
<p>“Everyone kisses in Hollywood,” Eddie said, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. “It’s how they say hello.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>**</p>
<p>The rest of the day passed in a blur. </p>
<p>Richie was distinctly, painfully aware of Eddie’s presence in his house, even if Eddie kept out of his way. He heard the shower running and stared at his paper, not even seeing the headline as he imagined Eddie soaping his soft skin, cleaning off the jetlag and the night spent asleep on Richie’s couch. </p>
<p>Eddie made them lunch, mentioning in passing that Richie didn’t have a lot in his fridge, not after the breakfast Eddie had whipped up for them. </p>
<p>Richie, knowing he survived on coffee and dining out, offered Eddie the use of his car and some money for groceries. </p>
<p>It felt dirty, digging out his wallet and passing Eddie the crisp bills, like Eddie was his kept boy asking for his allowance. </p>
<p>Richie ate the sandwich Eddie had made for lunch, tuna salad as it happened, wracked with guilt.</p>
<p>Eddie counted the money, making a neat little stack on the table and then smiled at Richie.</p>
<p>“I’ll go tomorrow?” he offered. “Unless you need your car?”</p>
<p>“Nah, knock yourself out,” Richie said. </p>
<p>“Do you have a schedule?” Eddie asked. “I should work around it.”</p>
<p>Richie paused half-way through finishing his sandwich, swallowing his mouthful, and got up from the table. He went into his office to dig out his appointment book for Eddie. </p>
<p>Richie never wrote down anything incriminating in it. He knew better than to leave a paper trail and he didn’t need a reminder about illicit trysts, only boring morning meetings. </p>
<p>Eddie hummed softly as he leafed through it. </p>
<p>“I could drive you too,” Eddie said softly. “If you’d like that.”</p>
<p>“You want to be my chauffeur, Eds? I can get you a cute little uniform with a cap and everything,” Richie said, reaching out to ruffle Eddie’s curls. </p>
<p>Eddie jerked away from the touch and Richie dropped his hand guiltily into his lap.</p>
<p>Eddie wasn’t his to touch. </p>
<p>“I have more than one car,” he said. “You don’t need to drive me. We can just decide who wants what car on what day.”</p>
<p>“Can I see them?” Eddie asked, eyes lighting up with interest and Richie remembered how Eddie had stared at his Corvette the night before. </p>
<p>“Sure,” he said. “Whatever revs your engine.” </p>
<p>So Eddie disappeared into the garage and Richie firmly made himself stay in the house.</p>
<p>The memory of Eddie from the night before was ingrained in his brain. He saw it whenever he closed his eyes, cursing himself for thinking that Eddie was anything but an excited fan. </p>
<p>He hadn’t exactly been thinking when he’d seen Eddie, at least not with his brain. </p>
<p>Richie drank three cups of coffee, tried to read his paper again, forced himself to look at the mail when it was delivered and purposefully avoided staring when Eddie came back into the house with his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed.</p>
<p>He looked like he’d just had a quickie. </p>
<p>“Cars turn you on?” Richie asked, frowning at the letter he’d torn open. </p>
<p>This should have gone to his accountant. </p>
<p>“I like them,” Eddie said. “I got used to tinkering about with my mom’s car. It’s an older model. She said if we took it to a garage we’d get ripped off, so I started fixing it myself.” </p>
<p>Richie looked up, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.</p>
<p>Eddie was a man of hidden depths. </p>
<p>“I’ve got no idea how to do that,” he said. “Fixing a car I mean. I just buy a new one if something goes wrong.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes grew comically wide.</p>
<p>“You think you can keep them running?” Richie continued. “Make sure I don’t get ripped off?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Eddie said, nodding eagerly. </p>
<p>“You’ve got the job then,” Richie said. “Those cars out there, they’re all yours. I’ll just borrow one when I need to get to work.”</p>
<p>The bright smile on Eddie’s face was enough to make him ignore the sickly sweet feeling swirling inside him. </p>
<p>He wasn’t bribing Eddie to stay with him. Eddie had asked, begged practically, for Richie to take him in and Richie had agreed out of the goodness of his heart. This was where Eddie wanted to be. </p>
<p>Eddie was the one who’d flown across the country to meet him. Eddie was the one who’d forced himself into Richie’s life, not the other way around. </p>
<p>Richie thought if he told himself that enough times, he’d come to believe it was true. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We can have a little Richie &amp; Beverly friendship, as a treat.</p><p>If you'd like to see a reference post for Richie and Beverly's outfits in this chapter: <a href="https://yesiwasateenagewerewolf.tumblr.com/post/643486343339606016/reference-post-for-what-richie-and-beverly-are">Please click here for 80's fashion</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Is this ok?” Eddie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood on the landing, haloed by the light above him, wearing suspenders and a tie, his depressing grey suit ill-fitting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked like a kid getting ready for the big school dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie said. “You look cute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not good then,” he muttered, reaching up to start tugging at the tie around his neck, loosening the knot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take you shopping,” Richie said without really thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sticky sick feeling came back, the one he’d felt when he’d dug through his wallet to give Eddie money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was treating Eddie like his kept boy, indulging himself while Eddie was none the wiser as to Richie’s true intentions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wouldn’t do anything to Eddie without enthusiastic permission, but he had a vivid imagination and he’d already imagined in detail everything he wanted to do to the other man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mom picked out my clothes for me,” Eddie said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was ashamed, Richie realised. </span>
  <span>Ashamed of his clothes, ashamed of his mother, ashamed of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had running off to LA really been the first time Eddie had ever taken control of his own life? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t,” Richie promised. “You can choose what you like. I’ll just pay for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded desperate to his own ears, but Eddie just smiled at him like Richie was offering him something rare and precious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From what little Richie understood about his previous life, he supposed money to dress how he wanted was a novelty for Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But tonight?” Eddie murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight, we can pick some things out of my closet,” Richie suggested. “Might be a bit big on you, but that’s in style now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, sweet and trusting, and let Richie drag him into his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the messy bed as Richie threw open the closet door and gestured to the array of colours and patterns inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing gaudy,” Eddie said, then covered his mouth with his hand, looking horrified as he realised he’s inadvertently insulted Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you suggesting my style is gaudy?” Richie asked, mock-affronted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d toned it down for this evening, wearing a black shirt with a popped collar and a black and white striped wide-lapel jacket thrown over the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough to grab attention, but not as wild as he could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dinner with Beverly after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trying to be fashionable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie said, stretching the word out in a way that made it clear he was lying through his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wound me,” Richie huffed. “And I thought you said you wanted to be just like me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked up at him through his long lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” he said. “I’m just not confident like you are. I don’t know where to start,” he gestured to the lurid colours of Richie’s wardrobe. “I don’t want to look bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wanted to gather him up in his arms and squeeze him tight. He didn’t think it was possible for Eddie to look anything less than adorable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t look bad,” he assured Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but nothing too colourful,” Eddie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a bit of colour,” Richie muttered to himself, searching through the wardrobe and coming back with a sky blue jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Solid, one colour, not flashy but not dull either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed it on to Eddie’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about that and a white t-shirt underneath?” he suggested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkled his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that a little underdressed?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s casual,” Richie said. “Fashion forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie still looked doubtful, but he picked up the jacket carefully and scuttled back to his own room to change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie leant against the wardrobe, arms crossed over his chest, frowning.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d finally had Eddie in his bedroom, but not in the way he wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and let himself imagine Eddie’s doubtful gaze had been about something other than the jacket. </span>
  <span>It was all too easy to picture it - Eddie sitting on his bed, looking up at him with those big eyes, so uncertain but willing to trust Richie, knowing that Richie would treat him right, that all he wanted was to make both of them feel good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d take such good care of Eddie if the kid would only let him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie clenched his hand, digging his nails into his palm, the bite of pain grounding him. It was a technique Richie had employed for years, something he did when he could feel himself starting to spiral. He did it before shows and before interviews, reminding himself not to go off the rails or get lost in his own head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had started when he was a child, too loud and too excited to know when he was being too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did it before dates sometimes, when he could feel his heart swelling in his chest and all he wanted was his date to look at him, to notice him and adore him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie needed to get a grip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t want him. Eddie didn’t really know what he wanted, but he didn’t need Richie monopolizing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Richie had his way, he’d just keep demanding all of Eddie’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie needed to work out who he was. He didn’t need Richie telling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a hesitant knock on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie opened his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was a sight for sore eyes; an angel manifested in his doorway. The blue had been a good choice on Richie’s part. It complimented the blond curls and the soft, peaches and cream colour of Eddie’s complexion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Richie was picking up some of Bev’s fashion advice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Eddie asked nervously, pulling the jacket closed across his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so big on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie really was a small guy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compact. Pocket-sized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even more so when he was wearing Richie’s jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had never considered himself a big man, but he had broad shoulders and a wide chest and Eddie was so nipped in, so deliciously tiny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ached to touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks great, Eds!” he said, all smiles, keeping his hands firmly to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The restaurant was the sort of hideously cliché hot-spot that Richie’s agent loved to see him at, especially when Richie was accompanied by a hot blonde. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have been so pleased that the hot blond on this occasion was a boy, but Richie was giving him some of what he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were camera flashes - paparazzi, excited fans and autograph hunters hanging around, hoping that someone famous might stop and talk to them for a moment. Richie ignored them, used to the attention, while Eddie scuttled behind him, keeping his head down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie kept just enough space between them for plausible deniability if anyone asked about Eddie afterwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think the booking is under Hanscom, but it might be Marsh,” Richie told the polite young woman who greeted them at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marsh, party of four,” she said, running her red lacquered nails down her guest list. “The rest of your party is already here. Let me show you to your table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the restaurant was loud - music thumping from the overhead speakers, men laughing, the indistinct sound of people talking melding together. Eddie hung closer to him in the smoky dim of the restaurant, following in Richie’s wake as they traversed the layout of the dinning room and ended up against the back wall, hidden away from prying eyes in a booth that was all red leather and black vinyl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This place was so tacky. Richie loved it deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was loud and excessive, just the right place for him and Bev who had never been quiet or easy people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unkind people would have said Richie was tacky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew people used to say it about Bev too, until she grew up and made good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had never grown up, nor made good, but he’d made money and that was better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly was as stunning as always.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wore a long-sleeved dress of crushed black velvet, cinched in at the waist by a sparkling silver broach. In the smoky dark of the restaurant, in her dark dress, her hair looked even more like fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scooted out of the booth, launching herself at Richie. He caught her and kissed her squarely on the mouth, hugging her close to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My darling Beverly! It’s been too long!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And whose fault is that?” Bev asked, punching him in the shoulder lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a star,” Richie said. “I can’t disappoint my public.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bev hugged him again, twice as tightly as before, then stepped back to allow her big, handsome husband to envelop Richie in a bear hug of his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so glad you could make it,” Ben said with a searing honesty that left Richie breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kissed both of Ben’s cheeks quickly, enjoying the way it made him blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben, as always, was well dressed in an inconspicuous way. He never wanted to draw attention to himself and he didn’t need to. People naturally gravitated towards Ben, to his good looks and his sweet smile. It hadn’t always been that way, but people were fools not to realise that Ben Hanscom had always been attractive. Richie had known it the first time he set eyes on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie clapped him on the back and they separated, grinning at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, who's your friend?” Bev asked, bouncing on her toes, eyes darting to Eddie where he lingered in Richie’s shadow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie placed a hand on the small of Eddie’s back, pushing Eddie in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Eddie,” he said, belatedly realising he had no idea what Eddie’s last name was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just Eddie?” Bev asked, raising an eyebrow. “Like Madonna?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak,” Eddie mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak!” Richie said, much louder. “This is Eddie Kaspbrak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued on, determined to make introductions and ignoring the look Ben and Beverly shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds, this is Beverly Marsh, she runs Marsh Designs, and this is Ben Hanscom, her husband. He’s an architect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook both their hands, eyes darting between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t take his last name when you married?” he asked Beverly. “I thought everyone did that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her shoulders shook with laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s a hoot! Where did you find him, Richie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie found me,” Richie said, slinging his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and drawing him close, forgetting about his previous conviction to keep his hands to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly continued to laugh while Ben looked politely bemused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You see, Bev is a big time career woman,” Richie muttered, so close his lips could brush against Eddie’s ear and he fleetingly considered asking Eddie if his moustache was tickling him. “She worked hard to get where she is, her name is her brand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would never ask her to change her name,” Ben said, so earnestly that both Richie and Beverly burst out laughing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie clearly didn’t understand what there was to laugh about. He looked as bewildered as Ben. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I say something funny?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t know how he’d begin to explain. He wasn’t sure it was funny to anyone outside him and Beverly. The joke was a product of their youth, a time when Beverly bemoaned no one would ever want to marry her and half the town agreed that no man worth anything would saddle his name to someone like her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now she was the one who refused to be saddled by someone else’s name. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Richie promised, ushering Eddie into the booth. “Bev and me just haven’t seen each other in a while and we’re always like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, accepting that as easily as he’d accepted everything else Richie had said to him. He settled into the centre of the booth beside Bev, while Ben and Richie sat towards the outside with more room for them to stretch their long legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shall we get a round of drinks in?” Ben suggested. “They’ve got a great cocktails menu. I was looking through it before you got here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect!” Richie agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you old enough to drink?” Ben asked, eyes darting to Eddie, then back to Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m twenty-one!” Eddie said, his cheeks flushing pink. “I’ve got my driver’s licence with me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled, throwing an arm over Eddie’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh baby, they’re not going to care. You’re with us!” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was going to ask to see Eddie’s ID when he came in with Richie Tozier and Beverly Marsh. They’d be too starstruck to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben waved over the waitress and ordered martinis for all four of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The food wasn’t that great, but it really didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was buzzing on the martinis that kept appearing at the table as regular as clockwork, on the warm glow of time spent with his friends and the fact that he’d spent most of the evening with his arm around Eddie’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked so good in Richie’s jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Richie wild seeing him in it and he ached to put his hands on Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his resolve dulled by the martinis, he did just that, holding Eddie exactly like he wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was shy, too nervous to really talk to either Beverly or Ben unless they asked him a direct question, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, smiling up at Richie whenever Richie checked on him. He’d switched to water after the first martini, confessing that he wasn’t used to drinking which had only made Richie want to coo over him more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben excused himself, mumbling something about the bathroom, and Eddie wiggled his way out from under Richie’s arm to follow him, explaining he’d better go with someone else, finding the restaurant a little daunting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took some shuffling about, but then it was just Richie and Beverly at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knocked her foot against his shin, grinning at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a nice double date,” she said. “We haven’t had one of these since your last divorce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shrugged his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course she did. She was his best friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d known since before they’d both hit the big time. She was, at one point, the only person who’d known. That was how much he trusted her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” she continued. “Just who is Eddie Kaspbrak?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie rubbed at the back of his head, laughing nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A kid I found in my dressing room last night,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look that Beverly fixed him with was unimpressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He flew all the way out from Maine to meet me,” Richie continued. “Can you imagine that? He thinks I’m some ideal man and that I’m gonna teach him how to be a man too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a sex thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tragically, no,” Richie said with a sigh. “He really, honestly means it. He saw me on TV one night and got it into his head that I was some paragon of masculinity. He wants me to teach him my ways.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waved his hands in front of himself to convey the mystic properties of the ways Eddie wanted to learn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...intense,” Beverly said diplomatically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, he’s insane,” Richie laughed, shaking his head. The whole thing was insane and Eddie was as crazy as they came, but Richie was mad too for agreeing to the whole thing. “He’s just amazing, Bev. I couldn’t write the stuff that comes out of his mouth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t written your own material in years,” Beverly said wryly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ignored her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s so funny! And sweet! Bev, he cooked me breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a little crush there, Richie?” she teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie glanced round, just to make certain no one was listening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed, if that’s what you mean, but it’s not going to happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He asked me to teach him how to talk to girls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly grabbed her napkin and shoved it into her mouth, biting down on it to keep her laughter silent. She rocked in her seat, clearly delighted by Richie’s predicament. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” Richie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, it’s just so fucking funny. I can’t believe you brought him to dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shifted nervously in his seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, he’s living with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly dropped her napkin back down into her lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All traces of amusement vanished from her face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom was an imposing looking man, but Eddie had quickly learned that there was no reason to be fearful of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reminded Eddie a little of the old dog on Mike’s farm; big and tough-looking, but spooked by the rumble of thunder and always looking for a lap to lay his head in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom had puppy dog eyes. Eddie would have slipped him the crusts from his plate if Mr Hanscom had laid his head in his lap and looked at him with longing in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was looking at Eddie now, watching him as he washed his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced up to meet his sad eyes in the mirror before he got nervous and dropped his gaze, looking down at the water rushing over his hands. He tried to remember how long he was supposed to wash them for. Was it seconds or minutes? In his mother’s home there was a wire bristled scrubbing brush and white bar soap. There was only water and liquid soap from a dispenser here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom cleared his throat awkwardly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how did you meet Richie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked up again, trying to catch Mr Hanscom’s eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw him on TV,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right? What about after that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bought a plane ticket and came to LA. His show was sold out, but someone at the theatre let me wait in his dressing room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom sighed deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed his arms over his chest and Eddie studied him for a moment in the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom was a very attractive man, but there was something about him that was almost unreal. Eddie wasn’t afraid of him, but he didn’t have the same warm approachability that Richie did. Mr Hanscom seemed too good to be true, while Richie was just good enough that Eddie knew he hadn’t imagined him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Last night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Mr Hanscom muttered, the word bouncing and echoing off the bathroom walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie flinched, turning the tap off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not angry at you!” Mr Hanscom said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just worried about Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie whirled round, facing Mr Hanscom now. He stared at the man and Mr Hanscom seemed to shrink under his gaze as if he wasn’t used to anyone looking at him with such intensity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you worried about Richie?” Eddie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t make good choices sometimes,” Mr Hanscom said earnestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll help him. I’m his assistant now,” Eddie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr Hanscom smiled. It was a very nice smile, symmetrically perfect like the rest of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s smile was crooked. It made him look as if he was about to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie liked Richie’s smile much more than the magazine perfect smile Mr Hanscom had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you staying with Richie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you ever need another place to stay, Beverly and I would be happy to put you up. I know it can be daunting being the new kid in town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded very slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very kind of you, Mr Hanscom,” he said blandly, with no intention of following up on the invitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing, Eddie,” Mr Hanscom said. “And please call me Ben.” </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Richie, why? You just said yourself that he’s insane!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it like that. He’s not a stalker! He’s not dangerous. He’s like 5’4 and 100 pounds soaking wet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her concern made sense. Richie knew objectively that he wasn’t making good choices where Eddie was concerned, but he also knew he wasn’t about to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had always been a sucker for attention and praise and that was what Eddie was giving him in bucket-loads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Richie like he’d hung the moon, like he was someone great and worthy, and Richie wanted to be that person for him. He wanted to keep Eddie’s attention fixed on him for as long as he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would end eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie would realise that Richie wasn’t any of the things he thought he was, and he’d leave, just like everyone did, but Richie would enjoy it while he could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deserved to get something out of this arrangement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He just needs to figure some stuff out,” he said quietly. “I’m gonna help him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly reached for his hand, squeezing it tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a good idea?” she asked gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but it’s what I’m doing,” Richie said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie was too buzzed to drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tossed the keys to Eddie who looked at him in awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just asking you to drive us home, sweetheart,” Richie said. “I wouldn’t pass the straight line test if we got pulled over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He poured himself into the passenger seat and waited for Eddie to start the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need directions?” he asked, looking over at Eddie who was adjusting the seat, pulling closer to the steering wheel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can find my way back,” Eddie said, tapping his forehead. “It’s like I’ve got a compass up here. I can always find my way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Completely crazy, but utterly adorable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Richie had thought about Eddie’s driving style at all, he would have imagined that Eddie was meticulous and careful. He drove his mother around after all. Eddie seemed like a polite, sweet boy, not the sort to frighten old ladies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slid the keys into the ignition and turned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The engine roared to life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gunned it, shooting them out of their parking space and straight across the car park, right into the flow of traffic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” Richie swore, grabbing for the door handle so he had something to hold on to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I learned to drive on Mike’s farm!” Eddie said excitedly, changing gears as he spoke. “He let me help him sometimes, doing odd chores, and he taught me how to drive in return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mike? The librarian? He taught you to drive like this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was clinging on to the door so hard the tips of his fingers had turned white. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He never let me go this fast,” Eddie demurred, switching lanes without signalling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie risked a glance to the side, just enough to see the smile that was stretched wide across Eddie’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go as fast as you want, baby,” he said. “If we crash, I’ve got other cars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie whooped with delight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bowed his head and prayed silently to any deity that was listening that Eddie wouldn’t crash the car that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive was short, a mixture of the speed that Eddie drove at and the navigational know-how he possessed. He took them a route Richie had never driven before, but somehow they made it home in one piece and without having to stop for directions. Eddie parked perfectly, with all the meticulous care Richie had been expecting from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie staggered from the car, his legs wobbling under him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if he should collapse to his knees and kiss the earth, thankful he got to stand on it again in one piece. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friends are really nice,” Eddie said, appearing at his side and looping an arm around Richie’s waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slung his arm across Eddie’s shoulder, letting the younger man support him and together they staggered towards the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped Eddie thought his unsteadiness was because of the drink. Richie didn’t have the heart to let the kid know it was his driving that had caused this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr Hanscom stopped me before we came back to the table. He asked me all about how we met,” Eddie continued. “He said I could always stay with him and his wife if I needed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Ben’s good people,” Richie muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben <em>was</em> a good person. He was hopelessly sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The offer to Eddie came with no strings attached, just Ben’s concern for both of them. Eddie was probably clinically certifiable and Richie was a horn-dog who didn’t know good from bad when it came to his dick. Neither of them should be living in the same space. It was a recipe for disaster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Richie was a better person he’d tell Eddie to pack up and move in with Ben and Beverly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie could discover himself perfectly happily living with them, probably better than he could living with Richie given that Richie couldn’t be objective. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you better,” Eddie said quietly. “I think you’re good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie groaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be the death of me, kid,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it,” Eddie insisted as he helped Richie upstairs. “I know how lucky I am to have met you. You’re everything I hoped you’d be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie forced himself to straighten up, reaching for the lightswitch at the top of the stairs and blinking rapidly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He untangled himself from Eddie, finding the wall and using that to support himself instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he didn’t get some distance from Eddie right now, he’d end up doing something they’d both regret. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take it from here,” he said. “You get to bed, kid. It’s a school night. What are you still doing up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,” Eddie said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look hurt by Richie’s abrupt change of attitude, but he lingered in the hallway as Richie fumbled with his bedroom door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night, Eds,” Richie said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” Eddie said, slipping past him and disappearing into the guest room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie finally got his door open and tottered to the bed. He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it on the floor before shedding the rest of his clothes in a heap by the bedside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too tired to even try to crawl under the covers. He landed face first in the pillows and fell asleep like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sleep was, blissfully, dreamless. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind never let's in the sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment or kudos. Please know I treasure every response from you guys. </p>
<p>Content warnings for this chapter: Period typical racism, homophobia and sexism, a general Sonia Kaspbrak and her messed up world view warning, Eddie has an anxiety attack that he wrongly believes is an asthma attack, Eddie has ableist thoughts about himself, Eddie is extremely touch starved.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie fiddled with the radio, switching stations to find something to listen to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed oddly perverse to have a state of the art stereo in the kitchen, but at this moment Eddie appreciated it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother didn’t like music. She’d never let Eddie have his own radio, not even when he’d grown old enough to buy one for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only music she allowed was holy music on Sundays or holidays. Otherwise, the radio was for the news and nothing else. She would have gone into fits if she’d known that sometimes Mike would invite Eddie over, put on one of his old Motown records and the two of them would dance around Mike’s living room, uncoordinated and delightfully free. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the ‘devil’s music’ in his mother’s mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bright, noisy music bursting forth from the radio now would never have been allowed in the Kaspbrak household. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was still asleep, but Eddie doubted he would mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have his own radio if he hated music like Eddie’s mother did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie busied himself in the kitchen preparing breakfast, tapping along to the beat of the song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t much left in the fridge and Eddie used the last of the milk in his pancake batter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d have to go to the store, but Richie had said he could take any of his cars. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie felt like a kid in a candy store when he thought about those cars, all shiny and practically untouched, just sitting in the garage and begging to be driven. He couldn’t decide which one he wanted to take for a spin first. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie finished stirring the batter. He covered it, letting it rest until Richie was awake and ready to eat, and switched to brewing a pot of coffee instead .</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hoped Richie wouldn’t mind black, but after how much he’d drunk, he might welcome it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s thoughts kept drifting back to the night before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s friends were nice. Beverly was the most beautiful woman Eddie had ever seen and Ben had been so thoughtful, including him in their conversations and offering to put Eddie up in their house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother said there was no such thing as something for nothing, but neither Richie or Ben had asked him to do anything in return for living under their roofs. In Richie’s case, Eddie had offered, but he had the feeling Richie would have let him stay even without Eddie promising to run errands for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes people were just good and decent, even people living in LA which his mother had described as a hotbed of filth and vice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unbidden, he thought of Beverly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beverly with her flame red hair. Beverly, who hadn’t taken her husband’s surname when she married. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie already knew what his mother would have to say about </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d say Beverly was flighty, that she wasn’t committed to her marriage, that Ben Hanscom was a pushover who’d let his wife walk all over him. Eddie could already tell that last part was true just from spending one evening together. Ben was in awe of Beverly. He adored her. He would let her have whatever she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know exactly why that was a bad thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother had always told him that the man should be the head of the household. He should earn a wage; he should be the provider, the protector. The woman should be at home, nurturing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t remember his father. He had no idea if his father had been the head of their household. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was hard to imagine anyone but his mother ruling them with an iron fist. It was harder still to imagine Sonia Kaspbrak as someone who could be described as nurturing, despite all she’d done for her son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All the same, she always reminded Eddie that their family would have been perfect if his father hadn’t died. She’d never had any of these hoity-toity ideas that women had nowadays of having a baby and a career. She’d always been devoted to Eddie and his care. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She might have been a single parent, but it was because God had chosen her to bear the suffering. She wasn’t one of those girls who got themselves in trouble. She was a respectable single mother, a widow, taking care of her son alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Eddie was to be a real man, then he needed to marry someone like her. He needed to find a nice wife who would take care of their home and provide him with the family he had missed out on growing up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie would be the man of the house, a role he couldn’t quite picture himself embodying yet, and his wife would stay at home and everything would be exactly as it was supposed to be, exactly as his mother had told him it should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coffee brewed and pancake mix ready, Eddie sat down at the kitchen table to make a shopping list. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was really ridiculous the things that Richie didn’t have. He clearly knew nothing about running a household. He didn’t even have fabric softener.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiled to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It honestly sounded like he was Richie’s wife when he thought that way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was strange to him that Richie wasn’t married. He was so perfect. Women should be falling over themselves to be by his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vaguely, Eddie remembered something linking Richie’s name and a divorce, and he frowned. His mother didn’t like him reading the gossip rags the supermarkets carried. Gossip was a sin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sonia Kaspbrak knew everything about sins. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s ex-wife was probably another of those career women, someone like Beverly, someone who couldn’t support a shining star like Richie because she was too involved in herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie needed someone to look after him, to take care of all the boring, mundane things like laundry and grocery shopping while Richie was doing what he loved the most. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Eddie was learning how to be a man like him, Eddie could take care of all those details for Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loved the idea that he could be useful to Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts, and his list making, were interrupted by the </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzz</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the doorbell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, Eddie went to open the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was in a flashy suit man standing there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t wearing a tie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was however wearing sunglasses and he lowered them to look at Eddie, his eyes sweeping up and down the length of his body, then back up again for good measure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shivered under his scrutiny. Something about it made him feel uneasy, as if the man was weighing him in his head and working out how much each pound of flesh would cost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” the man asked, frowning. “Where’s Richie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Eddie and Richie is upstairs in bed,” Eddie said, echoing the man’s frown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man pushed his way into the house, shoving Eddie back in as he did so with a hand on his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re the kid he was talking about. How long have you been here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkled his brow, thoroughly confused. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two days,” he said. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” The man looked up towards the stairs as if he expected to see Richie there, but the landing was empty. He took off his sunglasses, folded them and slipped them into his jacket pocket. “I’m Steve, Richie’s manager. Look, how much will it cost to get you to fuck off out of here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked back at Eddie again, staring at him so intently it made Eddie want to sink into the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Eddie as if he could see every bad thing he’d ever done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find words. He realised how stupid he must look, like a fish with his mouth open and gasping, but he couldn’t make sense of what Steve was saying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much? $20,000? $50,000? Trying to jump start your own career?” Steve asked. “I’ve got connections. I can get you roles. Not big ones, but you’re cute enough. Or there’s always porn, you’d make a killing in porn.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie backed away from him, his heart hammering in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Steve demanded. “Work with me here, kid, because I’m not gonna let you suck Richie dry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie couldn’t breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know what was happening, who Steve thought he was or why he was so angry, but Eddie was terrified in a way he could only remember being a few times in his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the way he felt when he was a child and the bullies from his school used to circle him, picking out his weaknesses as easily as if Eddie had given them a list to choose from. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t,” he mumbled, “I wouldn’t hurt Richie. I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh come on!” Steve shouted and Eddie flinched away from him even further. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying! Richie is a fucking idiot sometimes, but I’m not, so you can cut the act. Tell me what it will take to get you out of this house and out of his life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was vaguely aware of running footsteps, then strong hands gripped him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s face came into view, even as the rest of the world became blurry around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie? Eddie, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t...can’t breath,” Eddie said, struggling to get those words out. “Inhaler...in my suitcase.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Richie hissed. He turned away for a moment. “Steve, get his fucking inhaler. His suitcase is upstairs in the guestroom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie whimpered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turned his attention back to him, looking him over with such concern that Eddie’s chest grew even tighter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was worrying Richie. He was hurting him, just like Steve had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Eddie, focus on me,” Richie said, gripping Eddie’s chin and raising his face up so their eyes locked. “Why didn’t you tell me you had asthma, sweetheart?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie trembled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His asthma was one of the things that meant he wasn’t a real man. He wasn’t strong like Richie was. His body was weak, it betrayed him all the time and it was betraying him now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, take a deep breath,” Richie said, his voice slow and calm, his gaze never wavering. “That’s it, breath in with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re doing good, you’re doing so good,” Richie told him and Eddie felt the pressure in his chest loosen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got his inhaler,” Steve called, hurrying back down the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tensed up again at the sound of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give it here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie snatched the inhaler from Steve’s hands and pressed it to Eddie’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, baby, open up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie did, letting Richie give him two quick puffs of the inhaler before he pulled it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling a bit better?” Richie asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet, but everything was starting to come back into focus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t so worried he was about to pass out any more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guiltily, he realised Richie was only in his robe. He must have come straight from his bed, woken either by Steve ringing the doorbell or Eddie’s asthma attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had wanted to let him sleep in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s get you sat down,” Richie said, wrapping an arm around him and leading Eddie to the couch. “You need to tell me these things, kid. Do you only have the one inhaler? I’ll get you a spare, ok? Hell, I’ll get you twenty and carry one on me at all times if it’ll help!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie chuckled softly, leaning back into Richie’s arms as they settled down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, his lungs no longer clenching up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt so good to have Richie touch him, to comfort him with something as simple as a hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie never hesitated to touch him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d done it last night at the restaurant, looping his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, leaning in to whisper to him, sitting so close in the booth that their thighs pressed up against each other and Eddie was joyously aware of every little moment of contact between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been so lonely back home in Derry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hadn’t known it, not really, because he’d never had someone who was so affectionate with him before, but he had been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike touched him sometimes. He’d put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeeze, or give him one of his long, slow hugs that made Eddie feel like he could fight a monster since Mike believed in him. They didn’t touch very often though, and they were both careful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The things Eddie’s mother would have said if she’d caught Mike hugging him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People in Derry were small-minded and reactionary. Eddie never wanted to give them another excuse to hurt Mike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Eddie had been a child people touched him all the time - his mother, the doctors and nurses she took him to see, sometimes even the pharmacist when Eddie’s mother couldn’t get him the doctor’s appointment she craved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he’d grown up, those touches had stopped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had almost wanted to go to the hospital again just to have the doctor examine him, to feel someone’s hands on him that weren’t his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the sick thought of a sick little boy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hated hospitals, but he hated his loneliness more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe his mother would have liked him more if he’d let her drag him to the hospital? Maybe she would have held him, like she used to when he was a child, and now Eddie wouldn’t have fought to squirm his way out of her arms. Now he would have let her hold him as tightly as she’d always wanted, so tight that his bones ached. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t hurt when Richie held him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie felt safe in his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need to be poked and prodded or let his mother smother him with her overwhelming love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie could have this instead. He could have Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling better, Spaghetti-Man?” Richie asked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know - Eddie rhymes with Spaghetti,” Richie said, waving a hand in front of himself, trying to get Eddie to follow along with the logic of this new nickname. “So you get Eddie Spaghetti, then just Spaghetti, then Spaghetti-Man.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head slowly, trying to hide his smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, we’ll workshop it,” Richie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slapped a hand down onto Eddie’s knee, looking at him with strangely serious eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” he asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I usually carry my inhaler with me, but I’d hoped…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He trailed off, unable to explain how he’d hoped his asthma would disappear when he was with Richie, as if Richie was some miracle cure for everything that was wrong with Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh jeez,” Richie said, pulling Eddie closer still to him. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Eddie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Real men don’t have asthma,” Eddie mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of Richie’s neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah they do,” Richie said emphatically. “Do you know I wear contact lenses? I swear, Eddie, I can’t see a damn thing without them. You’re all just blobs of colour. I have the biggest, coke-bottle glasses for the days I can’t stand wearing the contacts. They were all I had when I was growing up and I hated them, but they didn’t make me less of a man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s different,” Eddie said, pulling back just a little so he could stare at Richie, just to see if he could tell he had his contacts in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiled at him softly, giving his knee a squeeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not and you know it,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All his life Eddie had been told over and over that he was small and delicate because of his asthma. Everything that was wrong with him was because of his weak lungs, his sickness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Real men had perfect bodies without any physical ailments, but here was Richie - who Eddie knew was perfect as perfect could be - and he needed glasses to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Eddie conceded. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could allow himself to believe what Richie said was true. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was easy when it was the two of them, Richie looking at him with such tenderness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie thought it didn’t matter, so Eddie agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie placed a hand on Richie’s broad, hairy chest where it peaked from beneath the fold of his robe, feeling the warmth of Richie’s skin beneath his hand, feeling the coarseness of his dark hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie never touched anyone. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to before now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I made pancakes for breakfast,” he said quietly. “And I brewed coffee, but I used the last of the milk for the pancake batter. I was going to head to the store today.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pancakes? Now you’re just spoiling me,” Richie teased, his easy grin back in place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie would have been content to sit on the couch like this forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve coughed from behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie started, looking over the back of the couch almost guiltily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t turn around but he dropped his hands to his lap. He’d forgotten Steve was even there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, can I speak to you for a moment?” Steve asked, following with a pointed. “Alone?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shifted, turning back to Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna be ok for a bit if me and Steve go talk?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looked up at him and realised that if he said no, Richie would blow his manager off and stay with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had never been the case before in his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother would leave him crying in the hospital bed if there was a doctor she wanted to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie, who’d only known him for two days, wouldn’t leave, not if Eddie told him to stay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be ok,” he said, smiling widely. “Do you have my inhaler? I should be ok, but just in case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Richie murmured, digging it out of whatever pocket he’d shoved it into, pressing the inhaler into Eddie’s hands. “If you need me, just shout.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go and talk to your manager,” Eddie said, sitting up straighter, feeling a good deal better now. “I’m just going to sit here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok,” Richie said, and Eddie knew he was trying to convince himself that it really was safe to leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie pushed himself up, motioning with a nod of his head for Steve to follow him outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie settled back, gripping his inhaler tightly in one hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared up at the ceiling, breathing freely, and thought about the warmth of Richie’s skin and how good it felt to touch him. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck was that?” Steve hissed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe. He was worried that if he didn’t, he might punch his manager. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gave him a fucking asthma attack,” he hissed back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was ridiculous, the two of them trying to keep their voices down as if anyone would overhear them. Richie didn’t have neighbours, not in the traditional sense. If he wanted to pop next door for a cup of sugar he’d need to drive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even so, the subject they were discussing was too dangerous for raised voices. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you playing house with some whore you picked up after your show, Richie?” Steve’s voice was low, so full of contempt that it felt like being smacked across the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Eddie isn’t…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got your message,” Steve said. “The one you left on my answer phone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie felt bile rise in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembered making that call, high off performing before a live audience and meeting the boy of his dreams. He’d thought Eddie was a pro then, had thought he was getting laid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No wonder Steve was so angry with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Steve, I fucked up,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve snorted. “Not the first time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie isn’t some hustler. He’s just a kid from Maine who wanted to meet me. I’m the one who got things mixed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve swore softly under his breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, now I feel bad for yelling at him,” he muttered, scrubbing at his face with his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he fixed Richie with a firm gaze, back to business after only a second. “What did you do to him? Rich, I swear, if he’s gonna run off and tell people you seduced him…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t done anything!” Richie protested. “He fell asleep on my couch and we got everything straightened out the next morning. He has no idea what I thought!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew Steve was just looking at damage control, but it hurt to know his manager believed Richie capable of pressuring some kid into bed with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not sleeping with him?” the disbelief in Steve’s voice was palpable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Richie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw you kiss him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On the forehead! He’d just had an asthma attack! I was calming him down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve raised his hands in the air, looking like he was ready to start tearing out chunks of his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is he still doing here, Richie? He’s not a hooker and you’re not sleeping with him, so why is he still in your house?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He kind of moved in,” Richie said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve inhaled deeply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie got the feeling Steve was trying to talk himself out of hitting his star client. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” he hissed. “Richie, you and I have been through a lot together. You know I don’t care what you do or who you do if you keep making money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Snake,” Richie muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve ignored him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a stupid idea. What do you think is gonna happen? Richie, one wrong word from that kid and it’s over! All of this - your house, the stand-up, the movie deals, it all goes away! This isn’t like you hooking up with a co-star or hiring a pro. This is some dumb kid from the backwoods of fucking nowhere! He blabs his mouth and you’re done. He could go to the Enquirer or some other rag. They’d love this story. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie Tozier stole my virginity and initiated me into homosexual lifestyle says teen</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie isn’t a teen. He’s twenty-one.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck has he been eating? Do they not feed them in Maine? He’s the skinniest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve grouched, distracted for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I’m not going to be initiating him into anything,” Richie said. “He’s going to be my personal assistant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve looked at him as if he was stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, you want to fuck him. How is this going to end well?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie didn’t say anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For once, he didn’t have anything to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was just like the conversation he’d had with Beverly the night before, although Steve didn’t have Beverly’s tact and sweetness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both right, but Richie wasn’t listening to either of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d already decided he wasn’t going to be swayed by their arguments. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glared at his manager, stubborn in his defiance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Steve sighed, well-versed in Richie’s moods and sensing he’d already lost the battle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you just promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie said, with no plans to do so. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have really enjoyed finding ways to add the other Losers into this story. <br/>Also, Mike Hanlon is the most wonderful boy in Derry and thirteen year old Eddie was smitten. </p>
<p>Content warning: Eddie is sexually assaulted by a woman when he and Richie go to a bar together. Please skip the part involving Myra if this would be triggering to you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As much as Richie would have loved to take the next few weeks off and just spend time with Eddie, he really couldn’t.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had scripts to read, meetings to attend, public appearances he was supposed to make. His career hadn’t stopped simply because he’d fallen head over heels for some pretty twink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He always did this. He fell too fast, too soon, ready to give his all to people who weren’t able to commit themselves back to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There had been Beverly, his childhood crush and dearest friend, who’d been so bemused by Richie’s deep and abiding affection, who loved him but not in that way; and her handsome husband Ben, who Richie had been trying to score with on the night that she and Ben first met, and who he’d thought he might still have a chance with for far too many nights after that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There had been Richie’s first actual girlfriend in college who had looked at the cheap ring he’d brought her and told him she was too young for marriage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first wife had left him because she wanted her career more than she wanted him and she wouldn’t let Richie destroy everything he’d built to follow her on her path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His second wife had liked money more than having him for a husband and had traded up to someone with more star power and a bigger bank account. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first boyfriend had told Richie he was clingy. His second had stolen from him, funding a drug habit with Richie’s hard earned cash, and Richie had looked the other way because he loved him just a little too much to be good for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’d been numerous dates and hook-ups that ended with Richie overly invested and overly involved to the point that he’d scared them away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was just the latest in a long line of doomed love affairs, but at least previously those other people had known Richie was crazy for them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had no idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was just living in Richie’s home, tormenting him with every domestic fantasy Richie had ever had and some he hadn’t known he’d wanted until Eddie arrived in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day Richie had come home early from taping a guest spot on a mid-morning chat show and found Eddie with his sleeves rolled up, elbows deep in the engine of the Mustang, Richie had wanted to bend him over the bonnet and take him right there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d imagined the high pitch of Eddie’s voice as he complained about how cum would ruin the paintwork. He imagined how tight Eddie would get around his cock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie had never been interested in cars, but he was developing a thing for them simply because Eddie loved them so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt like a teenager, jerking himself off to thoughts of Eddie everyday, guilt eating him alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie trusted him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie didn’t even pay him properly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave Eddie money, bills pulled from his wallet, his hands sweaty as he handed it over. Eddie didn’t know that Richie was paying for every smile, every laugh, every moment that Eddie let Richie wrap an arm around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was hardly the first time Richie had used money to get what he wanted. As he’d grown older, grown more recognisable, it had become a way of protecting himself and his eager heart. He paid in cash for someone to love him for a few hours. He hadn’t known he could be comfortable paying for something so platonic until Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doled out an allowance for the house, money for groceries and cleaning supplies, for tools Eddie needed to fix this or that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave Eddie money for clothes, unable to go shopping with him, and let Eddie twirl around the living room on his return, showing off his purchases in a fashion show that left Richie achingly hard and sick with shame. Eddie wanted to be admired, wanted to be told how good he looked, but he wouldn’t want Richie to rub his cock raw in the bathroom upstairs afterwards. He wouldn’t want to be the focus of all of Richie’s desires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was self-preservation that made Richie call his accountant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stanley had been handling his financials for him since Richie had started earning the kind of paychecks that demanded accountants. He handled things like payroll, making sure Richie’s publicist and his agent, his stylist and his attorney got their cut of whatever Richie made, as well as taking a percentage of it for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could handle setting up another person to pay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan the man!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie could hear Stan rolling his eyes over the phone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made him grin, giddy with the enjoyment he always got out of riling Stanley up. He was so buttoned down, so dower, not at all the sort of man anyone would imagine working in Hollywood, even if he was a finance guy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Stan sighed. “If you’re calling to ask if you can deduct some impulse purchase you just made, I’ll save you the time and tell you no.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a swell guy, do you know that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m also billing you for every moment you stay on the line.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wound me! It’s like you don’t enjoy talking to me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” Stan said, very seriously. “Are you ok?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan didn’t know about Eddie. He didn’t know about the stupid things Richie was doing, but he knew Richie and that was enough apparently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine,” Richie said, waving away the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was tired of people asking him if he was ok or if he realised what he was doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew his ideas were bad. He knew he leapt first and didn’t think until afterwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was calling Stan to try and put some breaks on this runaway train. He didn’t need another lecture. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just need you to set up another guy on the payroll. I hired a personal assistant and I keep paying him out of my own pocket and that’s gotta be against the law or something,” Richie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear anything after ‘hired a personal assistant’,” Stan said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the best, Stan. Really, no one else I would trust with my money.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could hear the rustle of papers over the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is your assistant's name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They discussed the details of the wage Richie would pay, a lavish amount that Stan tutted over softly, and the setting up of a separate household fund that both Richie and Eddie would have access to, and that Stan would audit for any irregularities. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was professional, business-like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing as messy as what Richie had been doing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t going to hold money over Eddie’s head as some reason to stay with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie deserved the chance to be his own man. Richie just wanted to help him get there. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For all Eddie had said he wanted to learn from Richie, he hadn’t been pushy about the subject, seemingly happy just to stay by Richie’s side and soak him up . </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Richie who’d decided they needed to go out. It was Richie who’d decided it was time Eddie learned how to talk to girls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wouldn’t have said he was a masochist, but he was coming to that conclusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had been perfectly happy to spend his evenings on Richie’s couch, watching through a back catalogue of Richie’s old movies and TV specials, eating popcorn and listening to Richie reminisce about the production. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was the one who’d made them come to the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a swanky, yuppie cocktail bar because Richie did have some standards. He wasn’t going to take Eddie to some dive bar where he might get his wallet lifted rather than a girl’s phone number. He’d also dressed down for the evening, no loud colours or patterns, and he was wearing sunglasses indoors. The last thing Richie wanted was the evening derailed because he was recognised by a fan. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight was all about Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ordered himself a whisky, nabbing a seat at the bar, and shooed Eddie away when he asked for his own drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m the one sitting at the bar, you’re the one talking to girls,” he said, giving Eddie an encouraging shove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know how!” Eddie said, his eyes very wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I don’t believe you! You managed to get me to take you home and you’d hardly said two words,” Richie said. “You’re a natural, kid. Don’t overthink it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie balled his hands up tight, looking nervously at the other patrons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if they think I’m weird?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we leave. No harm, no foul. You never see any of them again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sighed, deflating a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. It’s just talking. It’s not like I have to ask one of them to marry me at the end of the night or something!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie reached out, unable to stop himself, ruffling a hand through Eddie’s curls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What goes on in that head of yours, doll? The things you come out with! I’m never gonna know how your mind works.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie batted his hand away, smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I’m weird,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and I like it,” Richie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s easy talking to you,” Eddie muttered. “I’m not nervous when I talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallowed around the lump in his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t find him attractive. That was the simple truth of it. Eddie wasn’t nervous or tongue-tied around him because he didn’t see Richie like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was fine, Richie reminded himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had sought him out because he liked the idea of Richie, the image he portrayed to the world and Richie liked him enough to keep playing that man behind closed doors for him. He could be funny, charismatic, faultless if that was what Eddie needed him to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay here at the bar with me all night and everyone’s gonna think you’re my date,” he said, just to watch Eddie’s cheeks flush pink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t move though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gave him another gentle shove. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on, go and talk to some girls. If you get flustered, just imagine they’re me and start talking about car parts. They’ll be so blinded by your mechanical know-how, they won’t notice you shaking.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, mercifully, Eddie took the hint and slipped off into the crowded bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turned back to his whisky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why did Eddie think he wanted to learn flirting from Richie anyway? What had ever given Eddie the idea that Richie was good at flirting? Richie’s only technique was to be loud and obnoxious, steamrolling over the competition and bombarding the object of his affections with tokens of his love and his own presence until finally they broke down and agreed to date him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t need to do that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was beautiful. He could just sit at the bar and people would flock to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t even need to try, but he wanted to and he wanted to be good at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Richie would try to help him, because he was smitten with Eddie and spending any time with him was a good time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t take long for someone to approach Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, Richie would have thought it was cute if he wasn’t so gone on Eddie himself - lots of subtle glances and shy smiles, nervous little waves and then a pretty woman was sitting down beside Eddie, introducing herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie hadn’t gone too far. He’d circled back around and found himself a little table close to the bar, close enough that Richie couldn’t help overhearing their conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t eavesdropping, Richie told himself. He was observing Eddie’s technique, getting an idea of just how bad Eddie was at flirting. It wasn’t Richie’s fault that he was fine-tuned to pick out Eddie’s voice in a crowd. Anyone would have been able to after spending time with him. Eddie’s voice was unmistakable with its high cadence and careful, deliberate constants, as if someone would have rapped him across the knuckles if he dared develop a heavy Maine accent when pronouncing a word with ‘r’ at the end of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just moved to L.A,” Eddie said, smiling. “I live with my friend Richie. He’s here with me tonight actually.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waved towards the bar, towards Richie, and the woman he was talking to twisted in her seat, trying to get a look at just who he was waving at. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face shuttered; lips pinching together, eyes narrowing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shifted herself back to face Eddie, sitting ramrod straight now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not that kind of girl,” she said icily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiled into his glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could tell what she was thinking, even if Eddie was too innocent to understand. She thought they were trawling the bars together, looking for a woman to take home to share between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wouldn’t be against the idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d rather be kissing Eddie, fucking Eddie, but he’d make do with a threesome and a pretty woman sandwiched in the middle between them. After all, Eddie was a virgin and he was nervous. Maybe he’d like to have Richie there to hold his hand the first time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Behind him, Richie heard the sound of a chair scraping along the floor and from the corner of his eye he saw the pretty woman walk away, her glass of wine gripped tight in her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looked perplexed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie turned in his seat towards him, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was her loss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shot a longing glance in Richie’s direction and the empty seat beside him, silently begging to be relieved from his duties, but Richie shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he didn’t push, Eddie would join him at the bar and Richie’s desperate heart would take that as a sign that Eddie cared more for him than he really did. Richie had to be firm. He was just doing what was best for both of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A stranger grabbed the empty seat beside Richie, abruptly cutting off Eddie’s escape route. The stranger lent over the bar, waving his hand to try and attract the attention of the bartender, then glanced at Richie beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, aren’t you Richie Tozier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lowered his shades, frowning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never heard of him,” he said, swivelling back to the bar and the glass in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was on his fourth glass of whisky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drank it on the rocks and he drank slowly, but the bartender returned to freshen his drink whenever it got too low. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was another woman at Eddie’s table now. She had shiny blonde hair and a voice that grated on Richie’s nerves. He didn’t like her. She wasn’t like the last woman who’d come over. There had been no shy looks, no little waves. She’d seen Eddie alone and zeroed in on him, inviting herself to sit down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie? Oh like teddy, like a teddy bear! Eddie-bear!” the woman said, her shrill voice rising in a way that made Eddie wince visibly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mom calls me that,” he said, fingers nervously rubbing over one spot on the table top. “She calls me Eddie-Bear.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The woman reached out, placing her larger hand on top of Eddie’s, stopping his nervous fidgeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” she cooed, “you don’t need to do that. There’s nothing to be scared of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie frowned. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those words should have been soothing, but there was an undercurrent to them that he didn’t like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Myra,” the woman said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a nice name,” Eddie said politely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like me to take you home, Eddie-bear?” Myra asked, simpering. “I could take care of you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was frozen like a deer in the headlights. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie tried his best to quiet the voice in his head that was screaming ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Danger, Richie Tozier, Danger!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was nervous. He was shy. He’d said himself that he’d never had a girlfriend. He’d told Richie he was a virgin. It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility that he’d freak out when a woman made it obvious she wanted to have sex with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie needed to figure these things out. He needed to be allowed to make a few mistakes, do a few wild things. He needed to be his own man. Richie couldn’t just charge in because he was jealous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra scooted nearer, placing her hand indecently high up on Eddie’s thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let mommy take care of you,” she cooed, hand moving higher still, coming to rest over Eddie’s crotch before she squeezed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie bolted upright out of his chair at the same moment as Richie jumped up from his seat at the bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was never going to forgive himself for sitting back and letting this woman put her hands on Eddie. He never should have let things get this far. He should have listened to that voice in his head that told him something was off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thought it had been jealousy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie! Hey!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie caught hold of Eddie’s wrist, dragging him close, tucking him against his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This had been a terrible idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra was on her feet too now. She was an imposing presence, taller than Eddie and she loomed over him as she squared up to Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And just who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie’s friend,” Richie said. “And I think it’s time I take him home.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra’s eyes narrowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie and I were just leaving,” she said, voice filled with syrupy fake sweetness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie said, soft but determined. He curled his fingers tight around Richie’s arm, so tight that Richie thought he might have bruises in the morning. He was clinging to Richie like he was a lifeline and Richie had no intent of letting him drown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra looked startled. She pressed a hand to her chest, suddenly self-conscious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I come on too strong?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “I’ve had a little bit to drink, sometimes I just don’t know where the line is! Everything gets so blurred.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Richie admired her act. She knew she’d gone too far, but there was nothing remorseful in her actions. She was trying to make it awkward, relying on the social conventions that should see both him and Eddie falling over themselves to mollify her and downplay her actions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was an excellent manipulator, but Richie saw through her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d spent a lot of time studying people, their actions and the masks that they wore. He saw when they slipped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He saw how Myra’s eyes flicker over Eddie, saw how she sized him up, cataloguing weaknesses to exploit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ok,” Eddie said, as he was meant to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was polite. Eddie was sweet. Eddie would never make a scene.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thank goodness he had Richie there to watch his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not,” Richie said firmly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at Myra, saw the slip of her mask, her contempt for him clear in the way her lip curled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She saw him for what he was too. She saw him as competition. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel up every guy you meet?” he drawled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, well, you probably wouldn’t understand,” she demurred. “But most hot blooded young men like those things.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed sharply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you tell yourself?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra looked startled. She’d clearly thought her little dig would be enough to scare Richie off, but he’d faced worse than her. He wasn’t scared of some nobody in a bar who hid her meaning behind innuendos and double-speak. Richie had grown up with guys who’d break his glasses for fun, who’d never hidden how much they hated him. Myra was a small fry compared to the baptism of fire that was his childhood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Eds,” Richie said, urging Eddie towards the exit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myra didn’t follow them. She didn’t yell after them or curse them. She melted back into the crowd, ready to find another young man to prey on, but Richie still felt as if her eyes were on him as he hurried Eddie across to the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made him uneasy whenever someone saw past his own façade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie had spent a long time crafting his persona, trying on different faces and different voices, polishing his performance until it became second nature. Whenever someone got a glimpse of what was underneath without Richie’s permission it unnerved him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t look in any fit state to drive. Richie shouldn’t, not after he’d been drinking, but he needed to get Eddie home, needed to get him to somewhere safe. He settled Eddie into the passenger seat, hurrying around to the driver’s side, still trying to shake off the sensation of being watched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drove in silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was twisting his hands in his lap, head turned away from Richie, gazing unseeing at the world through the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie kept sneaking glances at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there something wrong with me?” Eddie asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would you think that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie already knew the reasons why Eddie would think that. Eddie was here in L.A, living with him, because Eddie had some fucked up ideas about what was wrong with him, but Richie still gave him the prompt to keep talking. He knew Eddie needed it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She wanted me. I could have gone home with her,” Eddie said. “I mean, she said it herself, any hot blooded young man would like the way she touched me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you didn’t like it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think there must be something wrong with me. It made my skin crawl when she touched me like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie checked the rearview mirror, confident there was no one about to run into the back of them, then pulled onto the side of the road. He stopped the car and turned to face Eddie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was looking at him now and Richie was shocked by the vulnerability on his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t hide anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was scared and he was confused, and he was waiting for Richie to make it better. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, you’re the only one who gets to decide who touches you and how,” he said firmly, keeping his hands on the steering wheel because all he wanted to do was touch Eddie, to reassure him with a hand on his cheek, but he couldn’t do that while he was giving Eddie a talk about setting boundaries. That would send mixed messages. “If you didn’t like it, you didn’t like it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But she said…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and she was a manipulative piece of work who wouldn’t have taken no for an answer,” Richie said, a little more angrily than he meant to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie breathed out slowly, the tension draining from his body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he murmured. “I really didn’t like her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know you can tell me to knock it off too, right? I mean, if I’m bothering you, getting too handsy, you can tell me to back off and I’ll do it, no questions asked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinked at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I like when you touch me,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok,” Richie said, signalling them back into traffic, trying to ignore the thumping of his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, do you think I could stay with you tonight?” Eddie asked. “In your room?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie thought he might crash the car. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel safe when you’re around,” Eddie continued quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wanted reassurance. He wanted to be held and told everything would be alright. He was like a kid sneaking into his parents room after a bad dream. It was so innocent that Richie pushed aside every dirty thought with ease because Eddie needed him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie could be what he needed. He could be anything Eddie pleased. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you can stay with me,” he said warmly. “I’ll be a good guard dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gnashed his teeth and growled convincingly. Eddie giggled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was glad he had his hands on the wheel. He felt that without that tether, he’d float away, right out of the car and up into the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing had ever given him the high that being in love did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drove the rest of the way home without speaking, but Eddie turned his head, watching Richie instead of the road. He smiled as if he liked what he saw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie drove them right up to the front door, parking haphazardly and leapt up so he could open Eddie’s door for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got a warm bed waiting for you,” he said, offering his arm for Eddie to take. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie did, leaning against him heavily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to brush my teeth and grab my pyjamas,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Richie agreed readily. “I’ll brush my teeth and we’ll meet up in my bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never got to have sleepovers as a kid,” Eddie said suddenly. “I didn’t have friends in school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie felt a pang of sympathy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even Mike?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mike was homeschooled. I didn’t meet him until I was thirteen. I was dawdling on my way home and he was out doing deliveries on his bike. We got talking. I was so pleased there was someone who wanted to talk to me. Then I’d dawdle every day after school so I could meet up with him and keep talking, but I never slept over at his house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No?” Richie guided him up the stairs, flicking the lights on as they reached the top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, my ma would never have let me sleep over at a farm even if Mike hadn’t been black.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?” Richie asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie wrinkled his nose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve got allergies and farms are dirty. She didn’t want me getting sick.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this about your asthma?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that,” Eddie said sadly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d reached Eddie's bedroom and Richie reluctantly released him, reminding himself that he’d have Eddie back in his arms soon enough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave Eddie a little salute, enough to get a smile out of him, and forced himself to turn around and trudge the few meters back to his own room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The more Eddie told him about his mom, the more Richie worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t see how that racist, backwards, controlling woman had raised a sweet boy like Eddie, but then he thought about how Eddie had jumped on a plane because of some hairbrained scheme about learning to be a real man from Richie of all people, and Richie could begin to put some of the pieces together regarding how Eddie came to be the way he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His own mother, god rest her soul, had never cared who Richie ran around with as long as he came home for dinner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie had wanted to be jealous of Mike, Eddie clearly adored the guy, but he couldn’t be because the more Eddie talked, the more plain it was that Mike had been the one bright spot in Eddie’s otherwise unfortunate life. That made Mike one of the good guys in Richie’s book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He padded into his bathroom, staring at his face for a moment in the large mirror, resigned to the fact that he’d always look like himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie brushed his teeth and washed his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He undressed casually, down to his boxers, shedding the layers of who he’d been at the bar, the man who hadn’t been Richie Tozier for an evening. All he’d done tonight was drink whisky and push Eddie into something he shouldn’t have. Maybe for once, being Richie Tozier was the better option. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stepped out of the bathroom to find Eddie waiting for him, already sitting in the middle of Richie’s big bed. He had his legs curled up under him and a pillow tucked against his chest. There was something absurdly childish about the pose, as if this really was a sleepover and they were just two kids about to swap secrets in the darkness of Richie’s bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie said softly. “You’re not wearing pyjamas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie looked down at himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I normally sleep like this,” he said, gesturing to his boxer clad self. “Is that gonna be a problem? I can put something on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes swept up and down Richie’s body, drinking him in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie swallowed, reminding himself that Eddie didn’t mean anything by those looks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really hairy,” Eddie said, a little breathless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie snorted. “I did tell you I was a guard dog, kid. Being hairy goes with the territory.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it,” Eddie said. “It’s very…” he groped for the right word, his eyes lingering on Richie’s chest. “Manly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie dropped down on the bed and threw an arm across his face to stop himself from looking at Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a right charmer when you want to be, sweetheart,” he murmured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t say anything. He fussed with his pillow, plumping it up and setting it against the headboard. Then he settled down, pressed bodily against Richie’s side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I turn the lights out?” Richie asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt Eddie nod against his shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his hands and clapped, the light turning off automatically at his command. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s neat,” Eddie mumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? I thought about getting clappers installed all over the house, but you never know when you’re going to get a standing ovation and give yourself a seizure,” Richie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt the curve of Eddie’s smile press into his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If this was all Richie ever got, then he could be happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could be happy just having Eddie as a friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They lay there in silence for a few minutes, Richie staring up at the ceiling, listening to Eddie’s soft breathing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then Eddie began to squirm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” he whispered, as if he was afraid someone might overhear them, as if they really were playing by sleepover rules. “Would you hold me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, Eds,” Richie said, responding before he’d fully registered what Eddie was requesting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Holding Eddie seemed a lot more dangerous than simply lying in bed with him, but if he said ‘no’ then Eddie would want to know why and he’d begin to think there was something wrong with him, something wrong in seeking out this kind of comfort when it was Richie who was the issue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could control himself. He could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie rolled onto his side, opening his arms and Eddie slid into them as if he belonged there, slender and small in Richie’s grip. He pressed his cheek to Richie’s chest and rubbed his face against him, giggling softly to himself at the coarseness of his chest hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie looked back up at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was going to be a long night. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Well your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my favourite chapter and I hope you'll enjoy it too.</p>
<p>Some general content warnings for this chapter: Homophobia, Sonia Kaspbrak's particular brand of awfulness, racism in the Derry Police department, Eddie freaks out about drugs, neither Richie or Eddie are nuanced about sexuality, mentions of AIDs, the age gap between Eddie and Richie is explicitly referenced, Richie talks about threesomes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie awoke slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked a few times and sighed softly as the memory of where he was came back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was safe, wrapped in the comfortable, warm cocoon of Richie’s arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was snoring, his head tipped back and his mouth open. Eddie smiled, indulging his desire to look at Richie. He knew it wasn’t acceptable to stare at anyone, that it was hopelessly rude behaviour, but Eddie wanted to look at Richie all the time. He couldn’t help it. Richie was ridiculously handsome, even like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Eddie got the feeling that Richie was putting on an act for him, swaggering about like he’d just walked off a movie set and hadn’t quite dropped out of character yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like this, fast asleep, Richie was unashamedly himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was loud and a little gross, but he clutched at Eddie like he was his favourite thing in the world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie understood that, because he felt the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was his favourite thing in the whole world too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said softly, nudging Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie muttered something then snapped his mouth shut, hauling Eddie closer until Eddie was practically on top of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie!” Eddie protested, but there was no heat to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He liked that Richie could pick him up and pull him about. It made him feel warm inside, the same sort of pleasant happy buzz he got when he’d helped on the Hanlon farm and he’d seen Mike carrying bales of hay, his t-shirt pulled tight across his straining shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the sort of buzz Eddie always got when confronted with anything overtly masculine. It made him feel so good, made him want to rub himself up against that masculine thing until it was inside him, until it was as much as part of him as he was of it, until he was a man just like Mike and just like Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie knew that being here with Richie was good for him. Richie was a man, completely and undeniably so, and Eddie would only benefit from that exposure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie,” he tried again, tapping Richie gently on the cheek. “I want to get up. I need to make breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No, it’s the middle of the night, Spaghetti! Go back to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, flopping his head back dramatically onto the pillow, letting out fake, exaggerated snores that were only marginally worse than his actual snoring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie snorted and elbowed him hard in the ribs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie startled, opening his eyes wide again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow! You’re vicious in the mornings! Remind me not to sleep with you again,” he said, rubbing at the tender spot where Eddie had got him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Eddie said, placing his own hand over Richie’s and joining in the therapeutic rubbing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could never stay mad at you,” Richie exclaimed. “You’re too cute!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie rolled his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I get up now and make you some coffee?” he asked sweetly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yowza. You know the way to my heart, Kaspbrak.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie elbowed him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie relented, finally releasing him from the circle of his arms and letting Eddie sit up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was nice,” Eddie said. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie groaned, covering his face with his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t handle sincerity at this hour of the day,” he said, peeking at Eddie through his fingers. “What time is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looked at the digital alarm clock on Richie’s nightstand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“7am."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going back to sleep,” Richie said grumpily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you would,” Eddie agreed. “I’ll bring the coffee up when it’s ready, but you have to get dressed and come down to breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! I’m the boss here! If I want breakfast in bed, you better bring it to me,” Richie said, snapping his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie said, grinning widely. “Crumbs."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiled at him, reaching for Eddie’s hand and tangling their fingers together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hate it when you’re right,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You must hate it a lot then,” Eddie teased. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So much,” Richie said quietly, his eyes locked on Eddie. “I hate it so much.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze, then released it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on maid! Make me breakfast,” he said, slipping easily into a British accent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head, crawling out of the warmth of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He missed it immediately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had never been an easy sleeper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother said he’d been a sickly baby, unable to settle and crying constantly. She’d never had a good night's sleep once he was born. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was an issue that had followed him all his life. Eddie was used to laying in bed, his heart racing, his mind replaying everything he’d said or done that day, looking for the mistakes and the errors. He’d be up in the early hours of the morning, heart hammering, his dreams turned into nightmares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since moving in with Richie, he was sleeping better. He’d fallen asleep so easily that first night, passed out on Richie’s couch, and he’d been sleeping soundly in the spare room, but falling asleep with Richie, in Richie’s bed, was the best sleep he’d ever had.  His insecurities couldn’t reach him when Richie was with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In Richie’s arms, Eddie felt fearless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That fearless feeling lasted well into the afternoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made Eddie feel as if he could do anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was one thing he’d put off since he’d skipped out on Derry, but Eddie was feeling brave now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He took his address book from his suitcase and brought it downstairs to the telephone in the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need it. He knew his mother’s number off by heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still he opened the address book to the correct page and dialled the number, smiling to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone rang only once before it was picked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mommy?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heard the intake of breath on the other end of the phone, followed by a quiet sob that stabbed him through the heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Edward! Where are you?” his mother’s voice was frantic and Eddie cursed himself for treating her so cruelly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have called her before now. He shouldn’t have let her worry. It was criminal that he could treat his own mother that way. Eddie really was rotten if he couldn’t stand to pick up the phone to call his mother and tell her he was alive. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought something awful must have happened to you! I tried to get that Halon boy to tell me where you were, but he said he didn’t know. I told the police about that. I told them I thought he had something to do with your disappearance and they said…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mommy!” Eddie yelped, the guilt swirling about in him cut off abruptly. “Did you cause Mike trouble? He didn’t do anything to me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s got his head filled with all that fancy book-learned rubbish! Always giving you ideas! He should know his place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie trembled, clutching the phone tight in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should never have asked Mike to check on her. Eddie should have known better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike was too good and the people of Derry knew it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They never missed a chance to hurt him, to try to grind him down under their boots, and Eddie had just handed them a new excuse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted them to search that farm of his! And do you know what they told me?” Eddie could imagine the way his mother’s lip was curling, the sneer stretching her face grotesquely. “They told me that if you wanted to run off with your coloured boyfriend, there wasn’t anything I could do about it!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie sagged with relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d never felt so grateful towards the Derry police department and their complete lack of interest in their jobs.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told them that my Eddie-bear isn’t like that! I told them and they all laughed, Eddie!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinked, reaching numbly for the inhaler in his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mommy,” he said, his chest starting to tighten up in the painful way he knew only too well. “I’m not in Maine. I came out to L.A. I got a job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother was uncharacteristically quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing it so people won’t laugh at me anymore. I’m going to be a real man, a proper one. I’m learning to talk to girls and when I come back I’ll be so different. I’ll be better.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t even want to think about the sorts of girls you’d be talking to in L.A.,” his mother sniffed. “Come home. There are nice girls at church. You can talk to them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Eddie said, nodding frantically. “I will come back and I will talk to them, but I’m not ready, not just yet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you taking drugs, Eddie?” his mother seemed to have gotten over her shock. “I saw it on the TV, you know. L.A. is full of drugs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, mommy, I’m not taking drugs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are you staying? I hope you’re staying somewhere respectable, Eddie! And what sort of job do you have? You haven’t got any qualifications! You need to come home. What have you got yourself into! And all the way across the country, where I can’t protect you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie giggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t funny, not at all, but he felt too tight, too tense and the laughter bubbled up in his throat, escaping before he could stop it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edward! Are you laughing at me?” his mother snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, mommy,” Eddie said automatically. “I didn’t mean to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eddie, you’re worrying me! Do you want me to worry? Eddie, you know I’ve got a weak heart. You could have killed me, running off like this. Is that what you want, Eddie? You want me to die?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Eddie said, the words automatic, trained into him over the years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want her to die. He didn’t want her to leave him. She was his mother and she was all he had in the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only that wasn’t quite true </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he had Richie. And back in Derry he’d had Mike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe, if the devil had ever asked him to choose:  Mike and Richie or Sonia Kaspbrak? Eddie wouldn’t have needed to think before choosing to save his friends over his mother’s life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a horrible son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with tears, his eyes watery. “Mommy, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really needed to do this. I needed to come out to L.A. and see Richie. He’s helping me, Mommy. He really is. I’m so much better when I’m with him.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is Richie?” his mother’s voice was cold, clipped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie Tozier,” Eddie said, rubbing at his face, forcing back his tears. “He’s on the TV.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother gasped audibly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That dreadful comedian who laughs at all his own jokes?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie’s funny,” Eddie said weakly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re living with this Richie?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m his assistant.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother hummed. Eddie didn’t know what she was thinking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wanted her to be impressed, to be proud of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what do you do for him?” she asked coldly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie hasn’t expected that question. “Um, well, I cook and I clean, and I take care of the house. He’s got a huge house, he’s got so many cars!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother sniffed disdainfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like a housewife, Eddie-Bear. That’s not a real job for a real man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie doesn’t know how to fix a car,” Eddie said softly. “He was impressed.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Over the phone, he heard a deep intake of breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is just like when that man at the garage tried to give you a job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head. “No, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw how he looked at you, Eddie!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He just wanted me to help out. It would have just been the weekends,” Eddie said, but this was an old argument, one he’d lost a long time ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wanted to get you alone. You’re too delicate, Eddie, too innocent. You don’t understand what men like that want!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother understood though. She knew which girls were dirty and she knew which men were perverts. She’d never let him make friends with certain boys, or any boys really, and she’d never let him take the job at the garage even though it would have meant they’d have more money coming in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The only reason Eddie had got so close with Mike was because he’d never imagined his mother and Mike could coexist in the same space, so he’d never tried. She’d still wanted him to abandon Mike when she found out about their friendship, but by then Mike was something integral to Eddie, something he needed. No matter what threats his mother issued, Eddie hadn’t caved to her on that issue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mike Hanlon was his friend and Richie Tozier was his friend and if Eddie was going to be a man, a real man, then he couldn’t let his mother dictate his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to come back home before that man makes you sick. Has he touched you, Eddie?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie held the phone at arm's length, staring at it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He felt hot all over, shame coursing through him as he thought of waking up in Richie’s bed, in Richie’s arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t the sort of touching his mother meant. It wasn’t sexual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just another one of those things that Eddied needed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He needed Richie to touch him the way he needed air to breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brought the phone back to his ear, just in time to hear his mother listing off all the diseases Eddie could catch if he let another man touch him. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m not coming home,” he said as firmly as he could, cutting across his mother’s tirade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Eddie, do you need money? I can send you money. You get yourself a bus ticket and come home to me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie said, suddenly glad for the separation of thousands of miles between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are sick! I knew it! You’re dying! You let that filthy man touch you and now you have AIDS and I’m not going to be allowed in your hospital room and you’re going to die alone, Eddie, because goodness knows the nurses won’t want to help you, not when you got yourself in that state by letting that dirty man do those filthy, disgusting things to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie isn’t dirty!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d stood up to his mother. She loved him and she knew what was best for him. Eddie had learned not to argue with her, no matter how unfair her ruling, no matter how much he yearned for friends and freedom and a little weekend job that took him away from her for a few hours. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d always let her tell him what to do, and he thought she must hate it as much as he did. He thought that was why she’d told him he wasn’t a real man, that he wasn’t good enough to be her son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A little bit of that fearlessness he’d found that morning in Richie’s arms was coming back now, clawing its way out from under the shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie is wonderful! I love being here with him. He never tells me I’m too delicate to do things. He never stops me. He just wants me to be happy and I am happy! So I’m not coming home, mommy, maybe not ever, because I want to stay with Richie for as long as he’ll have me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, because he was still a coward at heart, Eddie hung up the phone before she could start screaming at him again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie found him on the couch, his head buried in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Spaghetti?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie brushed at his eyes with the back of his hand, hoping that his face didn’t look blotchy. What would Richie think of him if he realised Eddie had just been sat here crying? Eddie had always been prone to tears, especially after a great outburst of emotion, and he hated that about himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I called my mom. She wasn’t too pleased about me being here,” he said, looking up at Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know she’s my mom and I know she loves me, but sometimes I don’t think she likes me,” Eddie said quietly. “She says things, horrible things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was uncharacteristically silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said things about you,” Eddie clarified. “I shouted at her and then I hung up on her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saying the words out-loud felt like a slap in the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had yelled at his own mother. She’d done everything for him, and Eddie had been such a sickly child too, but Eddie had only ever been ungrateful in return and here he was, being ungrateful again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course his mother wouldn’t think he was a real man if he spoke to her like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should call her back,” he mumbled. “I should apologize.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started to rise, but Richie reached out with one large hand, pushing him back down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bad idea, Eds,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s my mom!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And she made you angry enough to hang up on her. Eddie, I know you. You’re not rude for no reason. Whatever she said about me, she hurt you pretty bad.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Eddie sucked in a deep breath.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt him to hear his mother talk like that, to hear her insinuations about Richie. </span>
  <span></span>
    <br/>
  
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Richie was everything Eddie wanted to be and if his mother didn’t like Richie now then she’d never learn to like Eddie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to be a good son,” he said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nodded, giving Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From what I’ve seen, you are a good son. She should be proud of you, Eddie,” he said with complete sincerity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie blinked back tears, tearing his gaze away from Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I keep messing everything up, Richie. I messed up with my mom and I messed up at the bar. I never know the right things to say!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t make sense because Eddie knew he was getting better. He knew he was happier than he’d ever been. He was feeling more confident, making choices for himself, taking control of his life. He even had fewer asthma attacks now. Still, there was something wrong with him, something Eddie couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard he tried. He forgot about that wrongness when he was with Rich ie, but away from him it came back full force.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Eddie wanted to do was curl up and hide away. If he kept thinking about the things he’d said and what his mother had said back to him, he’d probably work himself up into another asthma attack.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stared at him and Eddie got the feeling that Richie saw him better than anyone else had ever seen him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go out again tonight,” Richie suggested. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolled his shoulders, his next words coming out  in a broadly Texas twang. “Get you back up on that horse. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’ve had a fall. So saddle up, partner.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” he said, a note of finality in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you should stay in, moping around like you are,” Richie said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not moping,” Eddie said, but he knew he was pouting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie crouched down in front of him, trying to get Eddie to meet his eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me take you out. No hook-up bars. I’ll take you somewhere I’ve never taken anybody, not even Beverly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That got Eddie’s attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somewhere secret?” he asked, unable to hide the interest in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie said nervously. “And I’ll share something secret with you, ok? Something about me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The prospect of knowing a secret of Richie’s was tantalising. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie thought he knew a lot about Richie, but so much of what he knew was surface level stuff. He knew about Richie’s work, he knew about his daily routine or more accurately his lack of one, he knew his friends but he didn’t know how they’d become friends or why. Richie was willing to let Eddie into his life, to provide the kind of physical closeness Eddie had never had before, but he didn’t share his feelings. He was a closed book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not just gonna tell me you need glasses again, are you?” he asked, remembering the last time Richie had allowed himself a moment of vulnerability.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie had been spiralling then too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! I promise you, this is better than the glasses. Much more juicy, really personal stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie tilted his head, trying to ignore how his heartbeat started racing at the thought of getting to know personal stuff about Richie. He was still shook-up and if he’d been at home with his mother she’d have insisted he rest for the evening. She’d have wanted him up in bed, tucked in tight, before the sun had even set. That was what Eddie was used to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was watching him, studying his face, trying to guess his answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Eddie really couldn’t face it, Richie wouldn’t force him. He’d let Eddie go to bed and he’d be there in the morning, ready for a new adventure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But they wouldn’t have this moment again. Richie wouldn’t offer this secret again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Eddie wanted to know, if he wanted Richie to share things that made him uncomfortable, then Eddie needed to get a little uncomfortable too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d really like that,” he said quietly. “I’d really like it if you took me out with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s smile was wide and full of white teeth, and while the perfect whiteness of his teeth was artificial, the smile was anything but. It was infectious too. Eddie found himself smiling back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The club was hidden away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie would never have realised it was there if he hadn’t been following Richie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie had parked the car a couple of streets over and insisted they walk. It was a nice night, as most of them were in California, and Eddie hadn’t minded the walk. Richie was wearing sunglasses again, big frames that blotted out half of his handsome face, although Eddie would still have recognised him easily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The club was down a back alleyway. Eddie had hesitated a moment before he ducked down after Richie, his stomach twisting unpleasantly as he thought about rubbish and rats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie would have missed the door completely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie knocked twice, loud smart raps, and a little hatch opened, eyes peering out at them suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie said something and then the door was opened and the two of them were ushered inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s head was swimming, his thoughts running away with him. Maybe his mother had been right, maybe Richie was involved in drugs. Eddie couldn’t think of any other reason for this level of secrecy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once inside, Richie grabbed hold of his wrist, pulling Eddie in tight against his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay close to me, ok?” he said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, his heart leaping up to his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> drugs. Richie had definitely brought him here to do drugs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the inside, the bar was just as small and smokey and dark as Eddie had assumed it would be. There was music playing, loud, thumping disco music and people dancing; more people sitting at tables, laughing and talking. It was rather cozy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie steered him towards the bar and ordered for both of them - whiskey for Richie and a gin &amp; tonic for Eddie because he’d heard tonic water was healthy. With drinks in hand, they found an empty table and commandeered it, sitting close together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie let himself look around, really look, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t see any drugs, or drug paraphernalia although he wouldn’t have known what to look for outside of perhaps syringes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he did see was people, mostly men, laughing and drinking and having a good time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie took a sip of his drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not many girls here, are there?” he said after a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not many girls here,” he agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie looked at the dancefloor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are men dancing together,” he said mildly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>men dancing together. Some of them were leaping about, energetic and excited, in groups or in pairs, but others were pressed close together, arms around each other, slow dancing even when the song was fast and upbeat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie watched them intently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d never seen two men dance together before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie said quietly. “It’s a gay bar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie whipped his head around, staring at Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mother’s words rattled around in his head - </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>perverted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’ve been married!” Eddie said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. And don't get me wrong, I like women, but this,” he gestured towards the dancefloor and the men with their arms around each other. “I like this too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart was hammering so hard, he thought it might give out. How had his mother known? How had she known Richie was like that when Eddie had been living with him and it had never even crossed his mind? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, uh, this is my secret,” Richie said. He was staring intently at the table top, studying the surface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment he looked so unlike himself- small and scared, curled in on himself - that it made Eddie’s heart lurch painfully in his chest. Richie wasn’t supposed to look like that. Eddie would do everything in his power to make sure that Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>looked like that again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie got the oddest feeling that he should kiss Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did, leaning across and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, ignoring his mother’s voice in his head screaming at him to get away, to remember that Richie was dirty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he said. “For telling me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drew back and now Richie was looking at him, sunglasses pulled down so he could study Eddie’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This doesn’t upset you? Doesn’t freak you out?” Richie asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie remembered his mother’s tirade again, the ghoulish pleasure she’d taken in telling Eddie how sick things like this would make him. Eddie knew that people were dying horribly, shut away in hospitals and barred from the people who loved them. He knew it was a disease that men got from other men. He knew his mother thought it was a plague sent to strike down queers and sissy men and that she was glad to see the ever rising death total on the TV. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t sick. He was fit, vibrant, at odds with everything Eddie’s mother had ever told him about queers. He was successful, established, practically a household name, but more than that he was Eddie’s friend and Eddie didn’t think he could ever be upset by anything that was such an innate part of Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Eddie said, surprised to find that he meant it wholeheartedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have anything to say about it? You don’t think this makes me less of a man?” Richie really looked nervous now, his hand clenched around his glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, I think you’re perfect,” Eddie said soothingly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He really did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it had been someone else who’d brought him here, or if Eddie had somehow discovered it on his own, he would have panicked. He would have assumed being here meant something was wrong about Eddie. He would have stumbled over the memories of his mother telling him that he wasn’t a real man or his newfound knowledge that the Derry police had called Mike his ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>coloured boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. He would have remembered his childhood bullies calling him queer and priss, their insults taking on a crude sexual undertone as Eddie grew that had made Eddie more frightened than being punched ever did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bruises healed. He knew that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way Henry Bowers’ eyes had sometimes lingered on his legs or how Patrick had called him a girly-boy and held him down to watch him squirm; those things were burned into Eddie’s brain. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it was anyone else but Richie bringing him here, Eddie would have focused on all of those things and all of Eddie’s own imperfections.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Richie was perfect. He was everything a man should be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This didn’t change that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If anything, Eddie felt that it fit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie was so perfect that he shouldn’t be saved for women alone. Men should want him too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie had been queer when he’d offered Eddie a place to stay. He’d been queer when he calmed Eddie down from his asthma attack and when he’d put Eddie on his payroll. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie being queer wasn’t strange or life-changing, it was just Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really glad you brought me here,” he said, laying his hand on the table, palm up, an offering if Richie wanted it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie uncurled his fingers from around his glass slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slower still, he inched his hand across the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, he let it cover Eddie’s own, their fingers slotting together easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m glad you told me,” Eddie said firmly, a fierce type of pride welling up inside him. “I think you’re just great. I think everything about you is great.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was proud of Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That didn’t shock Eddie. It was easy to be proud of Richie and all he’d accomplished, but now Eddie felt proud of him for a completely different reason. He was proud of Richie for sharing this with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie squeezed his hand tight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I think you’re pretty great too, Eds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They sat there for a long time, quietly sipping their drinks. Eddie watched the dancers together, smiling at how happy they seemed. Richie watched him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It surprised Eddie how much happier he felt, sitting here in a gay bar of all places, then the highly polished, chromium cocktail bar they’d been to the night before. There was nothing polished about the cramped little bar, but Eddie liked it all the same. He liked that he could sit with Richie here, that Richie wasn’t trying to push him away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you decide to tell me?” he asked finally. “I didn’t know, Richie. Not at all. I never would have guessed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s why,” Richie said, sighing softly. “I felt guilty. Everyone else knows about me - Ben and Beverly, even Steve. I felt guilty that you were so close to me and you didn’t even know. I thought it might change how you saw me, thought you might have made a different decision about wanting to cuddle up to me if you’d known. And I guessed what your mother had been saying about me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie finished the remains of his drink in a gulp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What my mother says doesn’t change anything,” he declared hotly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re fiery, you know that? You’ve got this whole meek, butter wouldn’t melt look about you, but when you want something, you don’t let nothing or nobody stop you,” Richie said, the words reverent in a way Eddie was certain he didn’t deserve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” he protested. “I...I didn’t even graduate high school, Richie. My mom said it was a waste of time and I needed to stay home to look after her, so I dropped out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie gripped his hand tightly, bringing it to his mouth and kissed Eddie’s knuckles softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You left her, Eds. You came out here, you got yourself a job. You did that all on your own. And you got me, and you got Mikey.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was so unused to anyone being proud of him. It made him feel dizzy, as if he was flushed with fever, the praise from Richie. It went straight to his head and he cozied in closer to Richie, grinning up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really glad I’ve got you, Richie.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched Richie’s face, disappointed when he couldn’t see any reaction on it. Richie was still smiling at him, warm and gentle, but there was nothing more to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t know what else he’d been expecting to see. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced away, back towards the dancers instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When did you know that you liked both guys and girls, Richie?” he asked, his eyes fixed on one couple as they swayed, hands on each other’s hips, trading kisses softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” Richie shrugged, the sensation of the movement travelling down his arm and up Eddie’s. “I think I was seventeen. I’d liked so many people, Eds. I didn’t think too much about it, and sometimes I got close to guys, but we were just friends. I just liked them intensely, but I also liked Beverly. I always figured her and me - you know how it is when you’re young. First love, you think it’ll last forever. But then Ben moved to town, just in time for our final year.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben!” Eddie interrupted, his eyes wide. “Wait, you were in love with Beverly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie ignored him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Bev and me, we’re at this dance and I’m spinning her around when Ben walks in. She stops me and points him out, says ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Isn’t that the new kid?</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and I say ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah, I think it is</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and then I dragged her over to talk to him. Ben was really cute at seventeen. Chubby, shy, babbling away like he couldn’t believe we wanted to spend time with him. And I was looking at him and I thought ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I bet it would be nice to kiss him</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ and then that was all I could think about for the rest of the evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie said, his stomach swooping dramatically at the thought of Richie kissing either Ben or Beverly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m so wrapped up in my own little fantasies that I can’t see Ben and Beverly making eyes at each other. So I go home, thinking to myself about how I’ll charm Ben into kissing me, while Beverly and him are strolling home arm in arm and talking about weddings. It took me a whole week to work out they were together and I wanted to be sad about that, but when I looked at them all I thought was “</span>
  <em>
    <span>huh, we could make it three.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie ended his story and drained the last of his whiskey. He was shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And did you ever make it three?” Eddie asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dreaded the answer, but not knowing was worse somehow. He couldn’t stop picturing them, lurid flashes behind his eyelids every time he blinked. Richie and the pretty couple, all curled up together, hands on each other, kissing slow and serene. Eddie had only met them once and clearly they were Richie’s friends, but for the first time that evening Eddie felt uncomfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed he was just old fashioned. He couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to share Richie when they could keep him all to themselves. He couldn’t imagine anyone choosing any other person over Richie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God no! Ben’s far too innocent for that type of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, good,” Eddie said, giving his hand a squeeze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, Spaghetti, you know you’re the only one in my heart now,” Richie said. “And this was a long time ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, running the numbers in his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have been born yet,” he said, feeling a little strange when he remembered Richie had lived a whole life before Eddie even existed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Christ,” Richie mumbled, slumping back in his chair. “I keep forgetting you’re just a kid.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a kid,” Eddie said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was the last thing he wanted Richie to see him as. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie was tired of being small, of being little, of being ignored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew he wasn’t as bright and dazzling as Beverly or as handsome and solid as Ben, but he’d hoped Richie would still like him for who he was, the person he was trying to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That person wasn’t just a kid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s expression softened. He gave Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not just anything, Eddie. I know that. Sometimes I just forget how much younger you are than me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s because you’re horribly immature,” Eddie said, preening before Richie even began to laugh, aware of how good he’d got him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richie laughed so hard that he cried, brushing away the tears at the corners of his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie dutifully pretended that he hadn’t seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the smoky darkness of the bar, they held hands until closing. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is where it actually earns an explicit rating and where you can tell the author is a history graduate who focused their studies on sex and sexuality. </p><p>General content warnings: Mutual masturbation and pornography, references to Richie's previous drug abuse.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie said. “And I’m not really certain I like girls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said it very mildly, the same way he might make a comment about the weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie choked on his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of all the things he’d expected Eddie to say, that one had never crossed his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had taken Richie’s secret surprisingly well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had been braced for the worst; screaming, possibly Eddie throwing a drink in his face, but Eddie had accepted it with calm, unyielding reassurance. Richie hadn’t known what to make of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to make of Eddie’s comments now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surreptitiously he pinched his thigh, the little nip of pain grounding him, bringing Richie back down to earth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had started to sound suspiciously like he did in Richie’s fantasies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you think that?” he asked evenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought the guys dancing together looked like they were having fun,” Eddie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nodded, wondering if there was anything more to Eddie’s declaration than innocent curiosity. Eddie was a late bloomer, that was clear. He might just be stuck at the stage where girls were too frightening, too ethereal to really contemplate and boys just seemed easier to deal with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could still remember the moment he’d started to notice that Beverly wasn’t just the ‘swell guy’ he’d always thought she was. He could remember how his eyes had lingered on her as they swam together, both of them stripped down to their underwear and he’d really noticed the shade of her hair and the fact that she now wore a training bra. He’d been a blithering mess, throwing himself at her feet and begging for her attention whenever they were together, needing her to look at him, to notice him like he’d noticed her, but shying away from anything serious like asking her on a date. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always been all action, but Eddie was more cautious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love and the fairer sex were things Eddie didn’t understand. Dancing with another man was just pals, just a friendly thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t mind dancing like they did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a slight hint of pink in Eddie’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie licked his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, do you ever jerk off?” he asked, deciding for a change in tactics, a bold new direction in his questioning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at him with wide eyes, the pink flush of his cheeks turning red and spreading across his whole face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jerk off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie took a moment to memorize Eddie saying those words, knowing they’d come up again in his dreams that night, and ploughed on doggedly with his new course of action. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, doing the five finger shuffle? Going to the palm prom? Revving the engine?” </span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Richie waggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie's face grew redder still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you meant!” he spluttered angrily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes darted this way and that, as if he was scanning the room for an exit. It wouldn’t exactly be hard for him to bolt. They were only sitting in the sprawling living room, the TV flickering where neither of them had bothered to turn it off once the movie ended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wouldn’t blame him if Eddie jumped up. He knew he was pushing things out of their usual comfort zone. He tried to keep things PG around Eddie, even when trying to get him laid. He didn’t want to freak Eddie out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Eddie’s eyes came back to rest on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squared himself up, reminding Richie of a cornered cat. He was trying to puff himself up, trying to look something close to intimidating, but it was Eddie so whatever he was trying to do had already failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have to tell you, you’re not my priest!” he hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie doubled over, wheezing with laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, but he deflated a little bit, no longer so on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop making fun of me,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make it so easy,” Richie gasped, his face flushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned at Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you have, haven’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not since I came to live here,” Eddie said primly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you’re worried about? That I’m going to clutch my pearls at the thought of you doing something perfectly natural?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your house. I wouldn’t want to be presumptuous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days ago Richie had told Eddie that his earnest dream at seventeen was to live in a ménage à trois with Beverly and Ben. Masturbation would never have shocked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be getting pretty high strung,” he said, shrugging. “I do it every day. Sometimes twice a day if I’m feeling spicy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes grew wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the house? With me here?” he gasped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, in the house, with you here,” Richie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That stunned Eddie into silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Richie, his eyes flickering wildly up and down over him, then looked away, his blush magnifying two pretty rosy circles on the highpoints of his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was thinking about it. He was thinking about Richie jerking off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That revelation wormed its way under Richie’s skin, settling deep in his gut, sparking warmth through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think about when you do it?” he asked, watching Eddie closely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulled a face. “I don’t think about anything. I just try to get it over with as quickly as possible. It’s gross.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not gross,” Richie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head. “I didn’t want my mother to catch me. She always told me it was something only deviants did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie swallowed down the answer that lingered on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to curse Eddie’s mother out for all the harm she’d done, but that wouldn’t help either of them just then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s self-love,” he said firmly. “It’s natural and healthy and it helps you figure stuff out. You’re supposed to think about what you like, see what gets you hot. Jerking off is just as normal as having sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think about?” Eddie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stared hard at him for a moment, wondering how horrified Eddie would be to know he was the sensual star of Richie’s current jerk off sessions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People I find attractive,” he said eventually. “Men mostly, at the moment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, his eyes fixed on Richie’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have videos,” Richie continued. “Pornos. If you wanted help figuring out what you like. I’ve got both kinds - guys with girls and two guys together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s eyes seemed impossibly wide. He said nothing, just stared at Richie, looking for something in his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to watch them,” Richie finished lamely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he’d been thinking. Of course Eddie wouldn’t want to watch pornos. He thought touching himself was dirty. He’d probably want to burn those videos lest they infect him with licentious desires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to watch them,” Eddie said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen anything like that. The library had art books with nudes in them.” Eddie looked unfocused, slipping back into some memory where Richie couldn’t follow him. “I looked at them sometimes. I liked the sculptures a lot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiled fondly at him. It was painfully sweet to imagine Eddie flicking through a book in the Derry public library, nervously looking at the nude paintings and statues, worried someone would catch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pornography was plentiful. Most teenage boys got their hands on some. Richie at fifteen had found some pornographic playing cards in his grandfather’s trunk after the old man died and he’d slipped them into his pocket, taking them home with him when the house clearance was done. Now they sold girly magazines, skin flicks and just plain old dirty postcards pretty much everywhere. The gay stuff was harder to get your hands on. Richie had to go to speciality shops for that sort of thing, but they still existed out in L.A. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Eddie hadn’t even had a copy of ‘<em>Playboy</em>’ to amuse himself with and had to make do with the old masters instead was oddly heart breaking. It was like so much about Eddie - old fashioned, a little sad and ultimately a little strange, but it made Richie love him so much more keenly. He could search all his life and he’d never find another boy like Eddie Kaspbrak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slapped his hands on his knees, startling them both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,” he said, plastering a grin on his face. “What would you like to start with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie opened his mouth. Then he closed it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Richie beseechingly, begging for Richie to choose for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just get a selection,” Richie said, jumping to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would have been too easy to give in to temptation, to just put on a gay porno and watch Eddie’s reaction to that, but Richie wasn’t trying to get his own rocks off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trying to help Eddie figure himself out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wasn’t going to stay and watch. He was going to give Eddie the tools to do a bit of self-discovery and then see what conclusions he came to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about the situation in the abstract made it easier. Eddie wasn’t going to sit on Richie’s couch, jerking himself off to porn. He was going to go on a voyage of discovery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, when Richie had been startlingly close to an overdose, Steve had swung by his recovery room and suggested Richie start locking away things he wouldn’t want the public knowing about in the event of his untimely death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even as dopey and out of it as he’d been, Richie had realised Steve had used the time Richie was hospitalised to snoop through his house and uncover anything particularly damning. The invasion of privacy hadn’t rankled him like it should have. Instead Richie had only been grateful he had someone looking out for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, he’d taken Steve’s advice and locked away anything that could be career ending in the bottom draw of his office desk. He had one key and Steve had the other one. If anything ever happened, he’d be the one to dispose of all of Richie’s dirty secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie chuckled softly to himself as he unlocked the draw, wondering if Steve would be pressuring him to stuff Eddie into it soon, worried about how that addiction would affect his career. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed a couple of the tapes, just enough to give Eddie something to choose from, then shut and locked the draw again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Richie said, returning to the living room and throwing the tapes down beside Eddie. The covers were all the same sort of lurid design - a young woman or a young man, naked and unashamed, gazing hungrily at the camera with the title luridly slapped on top of them. Eddie visibly blanched looking at them, twisting away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was probably the most naked flesh he’d ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll grab you some tissues and then let you get to it,” Richie said, the forced cheerfulness carrying him through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t really care if Eddie made a mess on his couch. He could flip the cushions over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked up at him nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not staying?” he squeaked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie took a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again Eddie was straying a little too far into fantasy territory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Richie got that Eddie hadn’t really had friends back home, but Eddie’s complete lack of normal boundaries was starting to screw with Richie’s head. Sometimes he suspected that Eddie was testing him, pushing for Richie to make a move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This little scenario, two guys jerking off together, could have come out of one of the video tapes Richie had just brought in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, studying Eddie’s face intently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need me to teach you how to jerk off too?” Richie couldn’t help the smirk that stretched across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie clearly found it infuriating from the way his face flushed a healthy pink and he turned his head away, mouth pursing up into a prissy little pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he said. “I know how to do that. I don’t need your help, Richie.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then again, Richie thought, maybe Eddie just had no social understanding and latched on to Richie as some guiding light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll grab us some tissues and you pick out which of these you want us to put on,” he said, waving a finger at the tapes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducked away before Eddie could protest, although Richie thought he heard some squeaking as he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was going to have to do this part for himself. He was too pliable, too easy to pick up and arrange. He slotted himself into Richie’s life, moulding himself to fit what Richie wanted from him and it would be too easy for Richie to keep going, to manhandle him into something Eddie didn’t really want. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts of manhandling Eddie in his head, Richie fished an unopened box of tissues out from under the bathroom sink and headed back to the living room again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was waiting for him, one of the tapes in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tried not to feel the disappointment that swept over him as he recognized it was a naked woman on the cover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie held the tape out to him, chewing on his lower lip nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought maybe this one first?” he suggested, looking at Richie for some sign that he’d made the right choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiled and tossed the tissue box into his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good choice, Spaghetti man,” he said, grabbing the tape from Eddie’s outstretched hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was careful not to let their fingers brush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blinked at him, as if he was confused by the missing touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie ignored him, kneeling down in front of the VCR. He ejected the previous tape they’d watched, some god-awful movie Richie had done right at the start of his film career that Eddie had politely lied about liking. It had been embarrassing, seeing himself again as a young man - his glasses a little too large for his head, his teeth still a bit too big for his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had only been in a couple of scenes, but Eddie had drunk him in, glancing between the screen and the man watching with him. Richie knew he’d changed. He didn’t wear his glasses out in public anymore. He’d had some pretty good orthodontistry. The kid proudly spouting off his lines like they were Shakespeare rather than schlock wasn’t the man he was anymore, but Eddie only knew the finished product. He didn’t know what it had taken Richie to get there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tossed that tape aside and put on the one Eddie had picked out for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time to watch another young hopeful give a performance rather greater than the production they were in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie settled back down on the couch, keeping the other videos between him and Eddie as a buffer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music started up and the title flashed across the screen - </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Taste of Candy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pretty girl, the Candy of the movie's title, smiled at the screen, the camera panning up and down over her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a semblance of a storyline like there always were with these things. Richie really didn’t care for the bad acting. He’d fast forward if he was on his own, disinterested in learning how the average looking man convinced his pretty companion to take her clothes off, but for Eddie’s sake he let the seduction unfold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t much seduction to be seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl spoke stiltedly and the man mumbled, the microphone hardly picking him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shifted uncomfortably, sneaking a glance to Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had porn always been this awkward or was he suddenly just aware of the inadequacies because he had Eddie there? Eddie was probably judging Richie for his shitty choices, wondering why he’d watch something as mediocre as this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl on screen gasped loudly and Richie tore his gaze away, fixing it back on the TV. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man had ripped her shirt open and was fondling her perky little breasts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie relaxed a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was better. The girl was a natural; throwing her head back and arching under the man’s hands, moaning in a way that was almost believable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie fidgeted in his peripheral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t blame him. These were probably the first nipples Eddie had ever seen that weren’t carved from stone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought crossed his mind that Eddie was probably getting hard from this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His own cock gave a twitch of interest, more focused on the pretty boy on the couch with him than anything happening on the TV screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl shimmied out of her skirt, bending down to give the camera a view of her pantie clad ass before she dropped to her knees, pawing at the bulge in the man’s pants.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s breath hitched audibly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie reached down to adjust himself, aware he was half hard and that it had nothing to do with the pornography they were watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can touch yourself if you’re hard,” he said, not trusting himself to look in Eddie’s direction, afraid of what he’d see if he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sucked in a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looked over at him quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had his hands shoved between his thighs, half curled over himself, but he didn’t look aroused. He looked uncomfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl in the video moaned and Eddie shut his eyes, grimacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie dived off the couch, fumbling with the VCR to shut the whole thing off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought Eddie would at least get hard even if he decided girls didn’t do it for him in the long run. Richie got hard from everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something else?” he suggested quickly, worried Eddie would abandon this whole adventure if Richie didn’t do something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie agreed shakily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifted, looking through the collection of tapes on the couch, nudging them one at a time before he found one he seemed to like the idea of. He passed it across to Richie and this time Richie let their hands touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiled at him, looking like a weight had lifted from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tore his gaze away and looked down at the tape in his hand, grinning when he realised just which of the films Eddie had picked out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure do like your cars, Eds,” he said, glancing up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie huffed, but he was still smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie happily ditched the previous tape, swapping it out for the new film Eddie had chosen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed play, then scrambled back up to his seat on the couch, shoving the other tapes out of the way so he could sit closer to Eddie. It had been a mistake not to focus on Eddie before. The kid was still working things out, still too shy to say when he wasn’t enjoying himself. He needed Richie to pay attention to him, to read his tells and not let things go too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had freaked out over guy on girl porn, but the skin flick he’d picked out this time was all guys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The title unfurled across the screen - <em>A Touch of Class</em> - and the first scene came into focus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie actually knew the storyline to this one, as bare bones as it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plucky young man on the screen was in charge of employing new drivers for his father’s limousine company. His vetting process was extremely thorough, mostly spent on his back or on his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was breathing heavily, but he hadn’t stopped staring at the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plucky young man had another, older man in the back seat of a limousine with him, kissing him hungrily as they tore each other's clothes off, eager to lay themselves out on the smooth leather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This ok, Eds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded hurriedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Richie was right about him having a car kink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you mean what you said? That it’s ok if I touch myself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words sent a bolt of desire right through Richie, right down to his cock which thickened up, completely hard now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said shakily. “I’ll do it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sucked on his bottom lip, unzipping his fly with shaky fingers. He shoved his pants down, boxers along with them, getting them half-way down his thighs. His cock sprung free, standing at attention, flushed a dark angry red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re big,” Eddie whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie didn’t dare look at Eddie right then. Instead he focused on the TV, on the film still playing there. The plucky youth was on his knees, mouth put to good use as he sucked on his partner’s cock, bobbing his head back and forth prettily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never seen another guy's cock before, Eddie?” he asked. “Didn’t you ever peak in the showers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma didn’t want me showering with the other boys. She said I couldn’t do gym because of my chest,” Eddie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve only seen ‘em in art books? Damn, you’ve been missing out, baby. These things come in all shapes and sizes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re all small on the statues,” Eddie said stubbornly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, cos the Ancient Greeks were a freaky lot who thought small cocks were the height of beauty. Then the renaissance sculptors copied the Greeks so all their statues got stuck with miniscule flaccid cocks too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you even know this stuff, Rich?” Eddie asked, sounding awe-struck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like reading about dicks,” Richie said, which was true enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked reading about a lot of things. He jumped from one subject to the next. History grabbed his attention when it had to do with sex. He didn’t care about memorising names or dates, or hearing the details of a battle, but the way people fucked was always fascinating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Ancient Greeks had thought large cocks were vulgar, something possessed by the barbarians of the world, those people who were more animal than man, ruled by their baser instincts. Satyrs and Fools had large pricks and Richie had laughed to himself when he’d first read that. He’d have loved to blame his large cock for his lack of self-restraint. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie brought his hand to his mouth, licking a strip across his palm, wet and filthy, before he wrapped that hand around his aching cock. He should have brought them lube as well as tissues, but he hadn’t thought. Spit would have to do instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stroked himself slowly, letting himself get lost in the movements of the two men on screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d changed positions, the boy bent across the leather seat, ass raised in the air. His co-star knelt behind him, cock in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does that really feel good?” Eddie asked, his voice breaking through the fog that had settled over Richie, the mental barrier that was keeping him from remembering that Eddie was on the couch beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He risked a glance to the side of him and regretted it instantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s cock was just as neat and cute as the rest of him, fisted tightly in his hand. He suited the Grecian ideal completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked at him, confused and guileless, eyes darting between Richie’s face and the action on the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie tore his eyes away from the sight of Eddie to focus back on the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man was clutching at the leather, his fingers dug in deep as his co-star fucked him. He was panting, his head bowed, eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting fucked? Yeah. At least none of the guys I’ve fucked have ever complained,” Richie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gasped, high and breathy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie turned his head to catch Eddie bucking his hips desperately, then Eddie was coming. He threw his head back, moaning softly as he painted his hand and his stomach with streaks of come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had never seen a lovelier sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you thinking about getting fucked?” he asked, whatever filter had been in place before shattered now by the sight of Eddie’s orgasm. “Is that what you’d like Eddie? You want a guy to fuck you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded weakly. He trembled all over, his body wrecked by the force of his orgasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie could hear the slap of skin on skin, the slutty moans from the two guys on screen, but none of it was as hot as Eddie in that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look like you’ve never come before, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s never felt like that before,” Eddie said breathlessly. “I never realised it could be like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie closed his eyes, savouring those words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could imagine Eddie saying them in a different setting. He could imagine Eddie in his bed, chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath after Richie fucked him through an orgasm. Eddie was a virgin. Eddie had never been with another man. Eddie had never been with anyone. Richie could make it so good for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he hissed, screwing his eyes up tightly as he came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slumped back against the couch, boneless now he’d come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear and feel Eddie shifting about, but Richie didn’t have the strength to look at him yet. He was frightened he’d do something stupid if he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been stupid to do any of this. He should have been firmer with himself and with Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They needed better boundaries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way. He’d been in love before. Hell, he’d been in lust more times than he could count, but none of it had felt the way that being with Eddie did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was an addiction and Richie knew that with each hit, he was only making things worse for himself. The highs stopped lasting as long, the buzz wasn’t quite as sweet, but Richie needed him now and he’d do anything to get another hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Eddie whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie opened his eyes, focusing on Eddie before he realised that Eddie was still engrossed with the porn film that was playing. The scene had changed, the young man with a new guy now, and they were in an office rather than on the backseat of the car, but the story was pretty much the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think you can get it up again?” he asked, distracting Eddie momentarily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie glanced at him but then he was drawn right back to the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s handsome,” he said, nodding towards the new man on screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looked, really looked, at what was happening now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man Eddie was so enamoured with wasn’t the kind of guy Richie found attractive. He was too wide, too hairy. He looked like just about every other guy. Richie couldn’t understand why Eddie was so fascinated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what does it for you, Eds? You like 'em shaggier than an Irish wolfhound?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blushed a deep, rewarding pink, but he still didn’t look away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like his moustache,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s spent cock tried valiantly to get hard again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at the screen, realising belatedly that the things he disliked about the man were things he might have said about his own body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was jerking himself off again to a man who looked like Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alright, they wouldn’t have been twins, but there were enough superficial similarities - older, broader, hairier men with moustaches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Eddie even realise that? Was he looking at the man on screen and thinking about Richie?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie watched, frozen, as Eddie leaned back, his pretty cock all flushed and hard again, begging to be touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one mad moment, Richie thought he should lean across and offer Eddie a helping hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Eddie did something he hadn’t expected, drawing one knee up to give himself a better angle and Richie a clear view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie dipped his hand between his legs, ignoring his cock entirely, and instead pressed the pad of one dry finger between his cheeks, rubbing back and forth inexpertly across his asshole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a noise close to a whine, eyelashes fluttering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about pinching himself again, but he was certain this wasn’t a dream. If anything, it was a nightmare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was so close to him, touching himself the way Richie wanted to touch him, and all Richie could do was watch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was wrong…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Eddie didn’t want him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t touch him. He couldn’t risk it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the guy on screen looked a little bit like him, but that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Eddie liking a guy who had a passing resemblance to him didn’t mean he liked Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie couldn’t risk everything he had - he couldn’t risk Eddie - on something so insubstantial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll feel better if you get your fingers wet,” he said. “They don’t show you that on film, but all these guys got lubed up and stretched out before they fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t they show it?” Eddie asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. Guess they think it’ll mess up the pacing if you have to spend half of the film watching a guy get fingered open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d watch that,” Eddie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Richie agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie brought two fingers to his lips, sucking on them hungrily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stared at him, committing every moment to memory. This was what Eddie would look like sucking on his dick. Not shy and nervous, but enthusiastically messy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie pulled his fingers from his mouth with a pop, wet and shiny with spit, and pressed them back against his hole, rubbing in small circles. He groaned, his eyes closing as he moved his fingers back and forth, circling his hole, teasing himself but never pushing in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that better, honey?” Richie asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth felt dry. He didn’t even hear the noises from the TV any more when Eddie was writhing beside him, touching himself like the purest pornography known to man. His little cock stood hard and proud between his legs, a furious blush red from how Eddie had ignored it, spitting pre-come, and Richie wished nothing more than to be twenty-one again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was so pretty, gleaming with a soft sheen of sweat, his hips pumping into the air as he stroked and teased himself. Maybe if Richie had been twenty-one again he would have closed the gap between them, put his hand around Eddie’s cock and jacked him off. Maybe he would have taken Eddie’s poor, weeping cock into his mouth and sucked him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he’d come once and it was too much for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Much better, Richie,” Eddie said, opening his eyes and smiling beatifically right at Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finally wrapped his free hand around his neglected cock, stroking himself firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie got to see Eddie come again, gasping and shaking as he wrung himself dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie slumped back against the couch, smiling to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was filthy and gorgeous, covered in his own come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie wanted to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned off the TV  instead. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: A Touch of Class is a real gay pornographic film from 1989 set in a limo company. I've not watched it, so I cannot promise you the storyline is in anyway accurate, but I was searching for potential titles for the tapes Richie had and stumbled upon that one and it was fate. Of course Eddie would love gay limo company themed porn.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Final chapter! </p><p>There is a short epilogue to this which will be up in a day or two, but this is the end of the story as a whole. </p><p>Thank you everyone who has comment, left kudos or bookmarked. Your feedback has made me so happy. </p><p>Content warnings: explicit sex, mentions of Sonia Kaspbrak, I throw in a reference to IT (2019) Richie Tozier, religious imagery used to describe sex sex.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie didn’t think he kept secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Living with his mother, he’d learnt that there were subjects he should avoid and things he shouldn’t say, but he’d never thought of that as keeping a secret. He’d never felt the need to confess it before god and his priest on a Sunday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The things he omitted were out of necessity. His mother didn’t want Eddie to be friends with Mike, so Eddie didn’t mention Mike to her. She didn’t want Eddie to leave her, so he hadn’t told her when he made up his mind to come out to L.A. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was, on the whole, a truthful person. He didn’t tell his mother lies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t tell his mother anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having a secret sat uneasy on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t really a secret, Eddie reasoned, because he hadn’t even known it himself until a few days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d just assumed that was the way the world worked. He had assumed that he was one of them, the normal people who fell in love in normal ways. He’d assumed he’d meet a nice girl, go on a few dates with her and propose because that’s what his parents had done and that was what everyone did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Queers were other people, people Eddie didn’t know. They were strangers on TV or in the newspaper, living lives so removed from his that Eddie felt as if they didn’t belong to the same world as him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was queer in Derry, Maine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only that wasn’t true because Eddie was born in Derry, Maine, and Eddie was perfectly sure he was queer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wished he could say he just had no idea that queer people existed, but that was a lie. There was an AIDS crisis. Eddie saw the news, he’d read the headlines, he knew about homosexuality, but he’d never let himself really think about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was another one of those things his mother didn’t approve of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never really thought about his own sexuality until Richie made him take the subject in hand quite literally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a revelation, one that Eddie was still rocked with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted sex. He wanted sex with other men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t the kind of queer that Richie was. He couldn’t like girls, no matter how pretty they were. They didn’t do anything for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was the kind of queer that couldn’t be hidden because he was never going to have a pretty wife and a nice house and be one of the normal people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have forced himself before. He could have gone blinkered through the rest of his life, but now Richie had ripped those blinkers off and shown him everything Eddie had twisted himself up inside to avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he knew, he didn’t want to keep it hidden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Eddie had a secret, but only for as long as he held his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had a big house, but even then it was only the two of them and Eddie ran out of chores to do by noon. He made himself lunch, shrimp salad, and ate it nervously, waiting for Richie to get home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to tell Richie first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would change things, which Eddie hated, but he needed to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie had been brave. He’d taken Eddie to that club, had opened up about a secret part of himself, had let Eddie see the man behind the screen and Eddie really loved him for that. He didn’t think he’d feel half as ready if he hadn’t had Richie to hold his hand, to guide him towards his truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had come out to L.A. hoping to become a real man, some fantasy image he’d had in his head of the kind of man’s man he thought people would want him to be, but Richie had challenged all of that. He wasn’t what Eddie had assumed he was. He was better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie heard the front door open and he half-rose in his chair before sinking back down as he heard Richie’s voice float through the hall. He was talking to someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his lip, wondering if Steve was joining them. He’d come by once or twice since their fateful first meeting, although Eddie wasn’t completely comfortable having him around. He tried to avoid Steve when he came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kitchen door opened. Eddie tensed, then relaxed as he realised Richie was talking on his brick of a mobile phone. He’d brought it a few weeks ago, showing it off proudly to Eddie because now Steve could reach him anywhere to yack about some new project or plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie thought that was a bad idea. He didn’t like that Richie could always be found on the other end of the line. He didn’t like the idea that Steve could call him at any time, could check up on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked it a little better when Richie called him on it though, letting him know when he was leaving the studio or telling him if he had to work late. He liked it even more when Richie just called to chatter. He loved hearing Richie talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie came through the kitchen door, waving hello, but still engrossed in his phone call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was wearing his glasses. Eddie noticed he’d been wearing them more and more, even outside when he ran to meetings or script run throughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie thought glasses suited him. Richie always looked handsome, but the glasses added to that somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, it’s not my fault your ending sucks,” Richie laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie frowned, wondering who Richie was on the phone with now. He’d assumed it would be Steve, or perhaps Beverly, but he didn’t know any of Richie’s friends called Bill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie caught Eddie’s raised eyebrow and pulled the phone away from his ear, cradling it against his shoulder as he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“William Denbrough. You know, the novelist? Writes all those trashy horror books.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie continued to look blank and Richie sighed, lifting the phone up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listened for a few seconds longer, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill! Billy! I’m telling you, the people who pay to see Richie Tozier movies are not going to want to see me gruesomely impaled. It’s just not what my target audience is interested in. Yeah. Uh huh. Ok, well, send me the script and I’ll read it, but I’m not making any promises.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie hung up, still shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, it’s gonna be awful, just like the last one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just can’t say no to the guy,” Richie continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s got good ideas. Fucking alien clown. Where does he come up with this shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie said again, a little more desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie seemed to come back to himself then, looking at Eddie as if seeing him for the first time since he’d wandered into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, Spaghetti?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie squirmed in his seat. Now he had all of Richie’s attention, he wasn’t certain he wanted it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything had been so normal a moment before and now Eddie was going to drop a bomb and blow all of their carefully constructed normality to shreds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could lie, and Richie would let him, would play along and let Eddie avoid this conversation for another day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Eddie didn’t want to lie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” he said, his hands trembling. “I’m a homosexual.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie looked at him and Eddie fought the urge to squirm further under his gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words hung between them, heavy and terrifying, and Eddie waited for Richie to acknowledge them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Richie said quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie echoed, nodding his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie clapped him on the shoulder, a smile breaking out across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m proud of you, kid,” he said. “Takes guts to admit that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already knew,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had suspicions,” Richie corrected him. “I didn’t know anything till you told me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie smiled up at him, feeling a weight lift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This doesn’t have to change anything, does it?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s smile wavered for a second and suddenly Eddie wondered if it was forced because it reminded him of the fake smiles Richie wore on TV, practised and too easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t change anything, Eddie,” Richie said, thumb rubbing small circles over Eddie’s shoulder, his hand warm where he still clasped him. “You know you’ve always got a home here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something broke inside Eddie then, a wave of emotion that crested and burst over him. He couldn’t put a name to what he felt, but he knew Richie was the only one who inspired it in him. He was so intensely fond of Richie that sometimes it threatened to overwhelm him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffed, reaching up to rub at his eyes but Richie got there first, brushing away the tears that had started brimming there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no crying young man!” he admonished. “You’re gay! That means happy and I expect you to act like it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie laughed wetly, caught by how surreal Richie was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what it means,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll find it does,” Richie continued. “You and me, Eds, we have a gay old time, don’t we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s shoulders shook as he tried to fight back his laughter, but it came shrieking out of him, much to Richie’s evident delight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should we go out tonight? We could go to that club and celebrate properly. Maybe even find you a date?” Richie asked, nudging him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please!” Eddie agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t think he was ready for a boyfriend or even something as casual as just dating, but he wanted to try dancing with another man now he knew it was an option for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie threw himself into the chair beside Eddie, hand pressed dramatically to his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we can even find a man for me!” he said in a passable impression of a southern debutante.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie covered his face with his hands and laughed until his tears were all from joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie called Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twisted his fingers in the phone cord, smiling to himself as he waited for his friend to answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Mike,” he said when the phone was picked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Eddie,” Mike said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Ma still bothering you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not since you gave her a call. The last I heard she was wailing on about you being kidnapped by some shady Hollywood man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sighed deeply. “At least she’s not harassing you anymore. I’m really sorry about that, Mike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have told you if I couldn’t handle it,” Mike said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you shouldn’t have to! She should know better than that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, really, it’s ok.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t though and Eddie hated his mother a little for how she treated Mike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie knew she’d always been protective of him, but with his asthma and his weak chest she’d had every right to be. His father had died young and she hadn’t wanted to lose Eddie. He’d resented her for it sometimes, for trying to control him so much, but she was his mother so he loved her anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he felt as if she was a stranger. She’d never cared enough about Eddie to just let him be. She didn’t want him to find himself, she wanted him to fit into the box she’d prepared for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could never call her up and tell her what he was about to tell Mike. He could never trust her with this part of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could always trust Mike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to tell you something,” Eddie said, anticipation swelling in his heart, filling his whole chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok,” Mike said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m queer,” Eddie said, the words coming out in a rush, jubilation filling him as he said them aloud again. “I’m a homosexual. I like men!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike started to laugh. It wasn’t cruel. He sounded as happy as Eddie was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, I’m so proud of you!” he said, his smile laced through his words and Eddie could picture him so vividly in that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and he could see Mike standing before him, handsome and tall, smiling warmly as he shared in his joy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you,” he blurted out. “Mike, I miss you so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you too, Eddie, but I’m really glad you went out there! You needed to leave Derry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to leave too!” Eddie said firmly. “I’ll send you a ticket. You can come out here and Richie can get you a job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need Richie Tozier to get me a job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d let you stay here with us,” Eddie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike hummed noncommittally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is Richie?” he asked, changing the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! Really good!” Eddie said, the bubbly excitement rising in his chest again at the mention of Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s been good for you, hasn’t he? I’m glad you met him, Eddie. Living with him - you’ve really come into your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, wrapping himself up in the phone cord.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I would have even realised I was queer without Richie. He just...Mike, he’s amazing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so glad for you, Eddie, you deserve to be happy like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike deserved to be happy too. He deserved to come out to California and feel the sun. He deserved to be somewhere that people gave him respect. Eddie didn’t want him to drown in Derry, especially now he knew just how good it felt to be free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t want to come stay with us? Richie’s been talking to some novelist called Bill about being in the film of one of his books. Apparently this Bill guy’s endings suck. You could give him some pointers. You’ve read a lot of books. You’d know how to end things better than him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you talking about William Denbrough?” Mike sounded incredulous now. “He’s famous, Eddie! I’m not going to tell him how to write his novels!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, but you could still come and meet him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess,” Mike said. “And his endings don’t suck! They’re just not commercial.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’ve read his stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would I like it?” Eddie asked. “Richie said something about an alien clown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike chuckled softly. “No, Eddie, you wouldn’t like it. They’re horror books, pretty gory stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you like them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re thoughtful. He has a lot to say about life and people, about the real horrors of the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And alien clowns?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughed again. “Yeah, Eddie, and alien clowns. But the clown is the personification of fear. Denbrough’s novels are all like that. They’re deeper than they seem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure I wouldn’t like them, Mike?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t have happy endings, Eddie. The good guys rarely win and when they do it requires a big sacrifice. That’s what I mean when I say his stuff isn’t commercial. It makes you think, but it doesn’t make you feel good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t think I’d like that Mike,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie liked things to end happily. He liked things to end neatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t Mike who could read something just because it made him think, who’d become a librarian because it offered him access to all the knowledge he could possibly want. Eddie just wanted to be entertained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was why he liked Richie so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lived to entertain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie was too shy to ask anyone to dance, but it turned out that he didn’t need to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Men were confident enough to ask him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made his heart skip when he put his hand in another man’s and felt their fingers entwine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts flashed back to Mr Keene and his large warm hands and Eddie flushed as he realised those childish yearnings for what they really were. His first crush was on his old pharmacist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With hindsight, Eddie could see it so easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see why he'd dawdled to talk to Mike who was so charming and so handsome, the goodness in him shining out in the darkness of Derry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shocked Eddie how obvious he’d been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt as if everyone had known but him. The boys who bullied him in school - who called him priss and fag - they’d known more about him than Eddie had ever allowed himself to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother must have known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought she feared him leaving, that she didn’t want him to make friends or get a job because it would take him away from her, but now he wondered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d never wanted him to get close to other boys. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d banned him from that job at the garage because she didn’t like the way the owner had looked at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She told Eddie he’d find a nice, clean church girl and settle down with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d said it like a commandment, etched in stone, and Eddie would be damned to Hell if he broke it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was glad he had another man’s arms around him to hold him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt winded, gasping for breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was why she’d told him he wasn’t a real man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother</span>
  <em>
    <span> had</span>
  </em>
  <span> always known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you ok?” his partner asked. “Do you need to stop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, not trusting himself to talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood in the middle of the dance floor, wrapped around each other, Eddie breathing heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing up at the man holding him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a handsome man with wild dark hair and glasses falling down the bridge of his nose. His eyes twinkled behind the big frames. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have asthma,” Eddie explained. “I just need a rest, but then we can go again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” the man said. “Want to grab a drink? Or are you going back to your boyfriend?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s face grew pinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My boyfriend?” he repeated, confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the guy you came in with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that his name? Yeah, him. I noticed you two the last time you were here. I wanted to ask you to dance then but he was all over you. He’s been watching you all night. Does he like to watch? I’m not adverse to that, you know, if the evening goes that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man smiled, the feral shape of his mouth showing off the sharpness of his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked back at the table Richie had claimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes met Richie’s across the crowded room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie swallowed hard, his chest suddenly too tight. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Richie.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>How long had he been ignoring the truth of </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How long had he been planning to go on, telling himself that it was simply platonic, that he wanted to be like Richie rather than seeing his infatuation for what it truly was?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had jumped on a plane and flown across the country because he wanted Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d taken all the money from his savings account to buy that ticket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had done ridiculous, impractical things because there had been the half-chance that he might be able to meet Richie at the end of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had forced his way into Richie’s life and Richie had let him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had been so greedy, asking for more. He’d wanted Richie to hold him, wanted Richie to touch him and laugh with him, to sleep in the same bed as him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If they had ever been platonic, they’d crossed that line in the living room together, hands around their cocks, jerking themselves off. Eddie had been watching Richie and he knew Richie had been watching him. Eddie had been performing for him, stroking himself, getting himself off just to see the way Richie’s eyes roamed over him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d come to the sound of Richie’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was an oblivious fool. He was in love with Richie and he was pretty certain Richie was in love with him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not my boyfriend,” he said quietly, sparing a glance back at the man he’d been dancing with. “But he’s going to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he crossed the room, all his attention focused on Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you ok there, Spaghetti?” Richie greeted him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Eddie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got tired of dancing?” Richie asked, glancing from Eddie to the dance floor, then back again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded, not trusting himself to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> tired of dancing around Richie, having so much but not everything. He needed Richie. It was a desperate, ugly thing. Eddie had never felt anything like this before, not with Mike, not with anyone. It was something only Richie could make him feel, like his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eds? Hey, sit down,” Richie said, concerned, placing his big hand on Eddie’s wrist. “You’re looking a bit flushed there, buddy. Do you need some water? Your inhaler?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shook his head, so aware of Richie’s hand on him that it was all he could concentrate on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, come on, sit down,” Richie said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie lunged for him, throwing himself into Richie’s lap. He buried his hands in Richie’s hair, nails scraping his scalp, and kissed him with messy determination. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a good kiss. Eddie knew it wasn’t a good kiss. He’d only ever kissed one person before and that person was Richie. He didn’t think it mattered that the kiss was no good though, because Richie’s large, warm hands gripped his hips, hauling him closer still and Richie kissed him back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie submitted control over the kiss enthusiastically, letting Richie take control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let Richie kiss him and kiss him until he thought he might pass out right there in Richie’s lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Richie broke the kiss, leaning back in the chair to put some distance between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie tried to chase after him, tried to kiss him again, but Richie pushed him back easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, what is this?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at Eddie, no masks now, and his expression was desperate.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Didn’t Richie know how much Eddie loved him? Didn’t he realise he was everything Eddie wanted? Richie had been so good to him, letting Eddie take his time, letting him solve himself, but Eddie had finally cracked that code and he knew what he wanted. He knew what he needed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, I love you,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s hands tightened on him, clutching him close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he gasped. “Eds, I can’t...don’t joke about things like that. My heart can’t take it. I’m an old man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not joking,” Eddie said firmly. “Richie, I’m in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie spluttered helplessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie took advantage of the moment and kissed him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie, I want you to take me home,” he said.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a stroke,” Richie said. “Can you check my pulse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s for a heart attack,” Eddie murmured, trailing kisses along Richie’s jaw and down. He mouthed at Richie’s neck, feeling the beat of his pulse under his tongue. It was strong and fast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie, my love, are you trying to kill me?” Richie groaned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m trying to have sex with you,” Eddie said sweetly. “Please, Richie, I want to go home and go to bed with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Richie. I’m certain this is what I want. I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain about anything in my life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met Richie’s gaze, hoping Richie could see the truth in his eyes and could see that Eddie was sincere. He wasn’t sure what else he could do to convince Richie, but whatever he needed, Eddie would do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie stared hard at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Eddie thought that despite everything Richie had accomplished, despite how well loved he was, how famous, that underneath it all Richie was scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought Richie had been lonely in his big, empty house until Eddie came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie needed to be adored. He needed someone who hung on his every word, who knew how wonderful he was and would tell him. Eddie could be that person. Eddie already was that person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d try every day to show Richie how much he meant to him, to show him how sorry he was that it had taken him so long to realise that the only thing he wanted was Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t push me away,” he said, reaching for one of Richie’s large hands, holding it tight in his own. “I’m not going to change my mind. I’m not going to run away after this. I want to stay with you, Richie, for as long as you’ll have me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie drew in a shuddering breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” he murmured. “Do you mean it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie said, nodding his head eagerly. “I mean it. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forever?” Richie asked nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forever,” Eddie agreed without hesitation. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>**</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie’s bed was big and warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie was big and warm, his hands spanning Eddie’s ribcage, just stroking over naked skin as he sat between Eddie’s spread legs. They’d made it to the bed, stripping off their clothes and tripping over each other in their eagerness, but now they’d stopped, just letting themselves look their fill, touching featherlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie let himself stare shamelessly, drinking in Richie’s body, the coarse close-packed hair on his chest and stomach, the dark patch around the base of his thick cock. He loved every bit of Richie, loved how big he was, so much bigger than Eddie. Eddie wanted to be under him, wanted to be covered by Richie’s body. He wanted them to be as close as possible, wanted Richie to break through the barriers of his body and merge them into one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Richie asked, just like he’d always asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made Eddie feel wild. He’d never had any type of power, not really, but Richie handed him the reigns every time. Eddie could have whatever he wanted, whatever he asked for. Richie gave it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” he said automatically. “I want you to make love to me, Richie. I want you inside me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sucked in a deep breath, his mouth opening in surprise, as if Eddie had just got on the bed and opened his legs for the fun of it, not because he wanted Richie inside him so desperately that he felt empty without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agreed shakily, his hands skimming up and down Eddie’s sides, big fingers brushing across the too prominent ribs. “I can do that, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie bent down to kiss him, his moustache brushing against Eddie’s top lip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie got to have this. He got to have Richie. He got to have his kisses, his reassurance, his large hands that touched him so gently and so firmly, guiding Eddie to the best spot, getting him to lift his hips so Richie could slide a pillow under them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s fingers were thick and solid. He got them wet with lubricant, warming it between his hands before he nudged between Eddie’s thighs, brushing the tip of one finger slowly over the furl between Eddie’s cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie had done this to himself, lying on Richie’s couch with his knees up, working with just spit and determination. It was so much better when Richie did it to him. Richie knew what he’s doing. He knew how to send off fireworks under Eddie’s skin, knew how to kiss and mouth along the inside of Eddie’s thigh until he was trembling before Richie pushed one thick finger into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You good?” Richie asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie nodded vigorously in reply, not trusting himself to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One finger became two and Eddie moaned, the stretch of them making him brazen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This felt good. This felt right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care what anyone else thought about them, what anyone else might say about them. What they were doing wasn’t a sin. It wasn’t dirty. It was wonderful. Eddie was as close to seeing Heaven as he knew he’d ever get and it was all because of Richie Tozier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped out Richie’s name, starting to rock back on the fingers inside him. A sob escaped him when Richie switched to three fingers and it was almost too much, the stretch pushed to burning, but Eddie wasn’t going to tap out. He wanted Richie to fuck him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing so well,” Richie murmured, kissing across his stomach now, moustache tickling the sensitive skin there. “You’re taking it so well, Eddie. You're a little star, you know? I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie gasped again, Richie’s words making his cock blurt out a mess of pre-come. He always liked it when Richie called him baby. He liked all of Richie’s pet names for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never thought I’d get you here,” Richie said, his mouth running away with him now, fucking Eddie long and slow with his fingers while Eddie could only cling on, carried along with him. “I want you so bad, Eddie. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. I knew I could make you feel good, knew I could treat you right. You’re such a good boy, Eddie, you need to be treated right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not good,” Eddie mumbled, covering his face with his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are, sweetheart. You’re so good,” Richie said, punctuating it with a firm kiss just below Eddie’s belly button and another slow roll of his fingers into Eddie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie wanted to protest, he really did, but he couldn’t find the words when Richie was exploring him so thoroughly, opening Eddie up in ways he’d never imagined. All of his worries, his anxieties about who he was and who he was supposed to be, those melted away as he humped back hopelessly on Richie’s fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he groaned, chasing the sensation as Richie curled his fingers, sending waves of pleasure pulsing through him. “I need you. Please, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep saying things like that, baby, and I’m gonna come before I get in you,” Richie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drew his fingers out and Eddie sobbed pathetically, aware once again of how empty he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Condom,” Richie said, as if that was a worthwhile reason for leaving Eddie hard and aching to be filled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care. I don’t - I haven’t been with anyone, Richie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I have, sweetheart,” Richie said, rubbing a hand soothingly over Eddie’s stomach. “Let me, Eddie. I’ll get tested, but let me use it this time. I want to keep you safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made Eddie’s heart flutter to hear Richie say that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was out of his mind, completely wild and untethered, but Richie was still holding it together for him. Richie was still thinking clearly even and he was still thinking about Eddie, about doing what was best for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one else in Eddie’s life had ever loved him so completely, so utterly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched with hooded eyes as Richie pulled a condom from the bedside draw. He tore the packet open clumsily with his teeth, then rolled the rubber down over his cock. Eddie clenched involuntarily, reminding himself that any moment Richie’s cock would be inside him. Richie’s cock was thick and big, just like the rest of him, and Eddie wanted it so badly he could beg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie shuffled between his legs, reaching to grab hold of Eddie’s hips and haul him closer, half off the pillow and into Richie’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey there, pretty boy,” he said, grinning lopsidedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please fuck me,” Eddie gasped out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s face grew deliciously red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, wrapping a hand around his cock, pressing the head of it against Eddie’s puckered hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stretch of Richie’s fingers was nothing compared to the stretch of his cock. Eddie felt his body open, then open further as Richie pressed into him. It didn’t hurt, but it was strange, wonderful, something he could grow to love. Just the feeling of Richie pushing inside him, deeper and deeper, until Eddie was so full he thought he could split in two and Richie was buried in him, no space between them, the two of the flush together and panting, was something he knew he already needed to feel again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Richie moaned, defenceless now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie reached to wrap his arms around him, pulling Richie down so he could kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Richie began to move, slow steady little movements, never pulling out, just grinding into Eddie as he kissed him. Eddie was boneless, Eddie was floating, Eddie never wanted to be anywhere else but under Richie, as close as two people could be, held and loved and adored so thoroughly that he was a changed man. Richie’s love was changing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie loved the person he was with Richie. He loved himself through Richie’s eyes, through Richie’s words. He wanted to be that man that Richie saw him as - bold, brave, someone worth the attention of a shining star as bright as Richie. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. Eddie, I love you,” Richie said, pressing closed mouth kisses to Eddie’s lips, continuing to torture Eddie with the slow, suffocating pace that made Eddie’s legs shake and his cock splutter wetly where it lay against his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” he sighed happily, completely unable to move, unable to do anything but let Richie pin him to the bed and slowly drive him insane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” Richie said and he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had Eddie completely for as long as he wanted him. He had him body and soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Eddie was right when he had compared this to being close to Heaven because he felt as if he was dying, as if his soul was ascending. That was the only way he could describe a pleasure this pure, this complete and whole. He was dying in Richie’s arms. He was reborn again right there too, gasping and sobbing Richie’s name as he came over himself, filthy and messy, and so thoroughly happy he thought he might cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My darling. My Eddie,” Richie said and kissed him. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The sinners are much more fun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Eddie, I need to tell you something.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie fiddled with the edge of the bedspread. He couldn’t quite meet Eddie’s eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sat up, suddenly nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been enjoying the afterglow, wrapped up in Richie’s arms and luxuriating in the feeling of being filthy in the best way. Now he was on edge, worried he’d done something to ruin everything already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No! No, you were perfect,” Richie hurried to reassure him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well then what?” Eddie asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first time we met, I thought you were a hooker,” Richie said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t what Eddie had expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he should feel offended, but Eddie was more confused than anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie met his eye briefly before he looked away. “Because you seemed too good to be true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not!” Eddie insisted. “I ran away from home, I spent all my money to come out here. I just saw you on TV and I decided I needed to be with you! That’s not good! That’s insane!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie smiled softly. “Eddie, people like you don’t happen to people like me. I thought you were selling me a fantasy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie sat up too, running a hand through his tousled hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m obsessed with you, Eddie. I’m crazy about you. I never want to let you out of this bed again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look at Eddie. It seemed to be taking all his resolve just to keep on talking. He was still fiddling with the bedspread, still trying to find something to do with his hands. Eddie thought it was rather endearing that Richie was so nervous. There wasn’t anything he could say that would make Eddie fall out of love with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been trying to keep things kosher between us, to put the brakes on but I fell in love with you the moment I saw you and it’s only gotten worse since.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie blinked. He pursed his lips, his confusion only growing stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why did Richie think that was a bad thing? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’re the same because I’m obsessed with you, Richie Tozier,” he said, draping himself around Richie’s shoulders. “I saw you, I knew I needed you and I left behind everything else to be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie laughed, leaning his head back to knock it against Eddie’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re a couple of loons,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant it, what I said when we first met. There’s no men in Maine like you, Richie,” Eddie said with utter sincerity. “You’re it for me. I don’t want anyone else and I don’t want you to hold yourself back. I want every bit of you. If you’d been less chivalrous, we could have been doing this right from the beginning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie gaped at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re angry with me because I didn’t carry you to my bed like some caveman and club you with my big stick?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very angry!” Eddie insisted, pinching Richie’s stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d have hated me,” Richie squeaked, smacking Eddie’s hand away although he was smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s possible,” Eddie demurred. “Richie, all I wanted was to be close to you. If you’d fucked me that first night, I would have taken up residence in your bed and sent out change of address forms the next day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie squirmed around so he and Eddie were face to face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took hold of Eddie’s hands, holding them tight in his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m in love with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that’s good, because if it was legal I’d want us to go to a courthouse right now,” Eddie said, as mildly as he could manage with the love that was burning in him. “I want to be Eddie Tozier. I want everyone to know I’m yours and you're mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie lunged at him, pinning Eddie down to the bed beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you’re mine, baby. Don’t think I’m lettin’ anyone else think otherwise. I’d marry you in a heartbeat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess we’ll just have to live together in sin,” Eddie said, smiling so wide it made his cheeks hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be my kept boy,” Richie agreed, smiling back. “I’ll keep you in expensive cars and designer suits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie bit his lip, a long hidden fantasy of his surfacing at Richie’s words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich, do you think we could fuck in one of the cars?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s eyes grew wide and he nodded jerkily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, we can fuck in all of ‘em,” he promised.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>An epilogue to an epilogue - As soon as same-sex marriage was legalised in California - June 2008, before being outlawed again in Nov 2008, Richie Tozier, comedian and 80s film star, married his PA and life partner, Eddie Kaspbrak, in a small courthouse ceremony. In attendance were Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon, Stanley and Patricia Blum-Uris, and Bill Denbrough. </p><p>**</p><p>Thank you everyone who commented on this fic and supported it! I can't believe it's over, but I have loved every moment of interacting with you and I will be back with more Reddie in the future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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